


Fool Me Twice

by darlininmyway



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sports, American Football, F/M, Football Player!Oliver Queen, Physical Therapist!Felicity Smoak, Physical Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 67,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlininmyway/pseuds/darlininmyway
Summary: What can you do when your first love comes back into your life after fifteen years apart?





	1. Postoperative Weeks 1-4

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a repost. Hope you enjoy it. xo

“Dr. Smoak, call on line four. Dr. Smoak,” the perfunctory voice called over the hospital PA.

Felicity stretched, her back cracking and clicking into place as she returned to her normal posture. She’d been at the hospital since six A.M. with an endless string of cranky patients who didn’t want to do anything she assigned to them. She looked forward to finally getting home, kicking off her shoes, opening a bottle of wine, and watching It’s a Brad, Brad World.

Instead, Felicity found herself walking over to the nurse’s desk smiling as Paul, her favorite third shift nurse, handed her the phone and a hot cup of coffee.

“I don’t really believe in saints, Paul, but you’d definitely be one if I did,” Felicity breathed in the scent of coffee before taking a small sip.

“Don’t I know it,” he replied wryly.

“Dr. Smoak,” Felicity uttered into the receiver, sending a smirk towards Paul.

“Sweetheart?”

Felicity’s heart stopped. Her mother rarely, if ever, called her at work. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Honey, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Mom, what’s going on? Is it dad?” Felicity’s voice started to rise in pitch. Fear gripped her making her throat feel too tight.

“Honey, he’s fine. I’m here at the hospital though, and—”

“Mom, where are you?”

“I’m on the fifteenth floor, honey, but it’s not your father, it’s—.”

“I’ll be right up, mom,” Felicity interrupted, her hands beginning to shake.

She passed the receiver back to a weary Paul who gently took the paper cup from her unsteady hand.

“Go,” he shooed her from his desk. “I’ll make sure Dr. Fei knows you had a family thing.”

Felicity perched over the nurse’s station and planted a kiss on Paul’s cheek. “You’re wonderful. Thank you.”

“Don’t let my secret out!” Paul yelled down the hall at her retreating figure.

  
  


Felicity stared at the elevator numbers that slowly passed, mocking her.

The elevator doors were barely open before Felicity was out and striding quickly toward the floor’s main desk.

“Felicity!” her mother’s voice rang out in the opposite direction she was moving.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why are you here? Where’s dad?” Felicity asked in a rush as she finally made her way to where her mother stood.

“Honey, relax. Your father is fine—he’s…fine. I’m here with—”

“Felicity?”

Felicity’s heart gave an involuntary stutter. She hadn’t heard that voice in nearly fifteen years. She turned and came face to face with a teary-eyed-slightly-rumpled-in-a-way-Felicity-had-never-seen-before, Moira Queen.

“Oh Felicity,” Moira breathed, grasping one of Felicity’s hands tightly in her own. “You’re here. Oh honey, thank you. I hope you can help him.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open. What on earth was she even— “Mrs. Queen?” she asked but didn’t quite know what she was asking about.

Moira’s eyes grew brighter with unshed tears. It took everything Felicity had not to turn and run down the hallway, away from the woman who’d never liked her, but now apparently needed something from her.

“Mrs. Queen,” Felicity began again, freeing her hand from Moira’s grasp. “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about? Help whom? Did something happen to Dr. Queen?”

“Moira, dear, and no, not Dr. Queen. Oliver. Haven’t you heard?”

Felicity’s heart lurched. Oliver?

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Torn ACL,” Dr. Slade Wilson interrupted, coming out of Oliver’s private room with Dr. Robert Queen close behind him. “I completed the reconstruction, Dr. Smoak. Mr. Queen is awake if you’re ready to do the consult.”

Felicity felt as though she’d hyperventilate. Three people she’d hoped not to cross paths with again in her life, here in her hospital and completely unavoidable.

Dr. Wilson handed her Oliver’s chart with a smirk. Slade Wilson had all the qualities of a typical surgeon: arrogant, cocksure, egomaniacal, and brilliant. Somehow, Felicity ended up being the one to get called in as PT for the majority of his orthopedic surgeries, even though he rarely missed the opportunity to let her know how he felt about her doctorate of physical therapy versus his years in medical school and beyond.

“Dr. Wilson, you know I can’t do primary consults. Dr. Fei has to do this,” Felicity replied, handing the chart back to him.

“Dr. Smoak, please. We both know you’re going to be the recommendation. All the patients I send your way to sing your praises,” Dr. Wilson returned, his tone far too smug for Felicity’s liking. “Besides, it seems you have some history here.”

“Which is exactly why Dr. Fei should take the consult on this, Dr. Wilson. Mrs. Queen, Dr. Queen, I’ll go call Dr. Fei. It’ll only be a moment.”

“Felicity, please,” Moira moved toward her, grasping a hand again. Felicity fought the shudder that threatened to run through her. “I know it’s been a while, and I know you and Oliver have a lot of…history, but you’re the best around. I know you are. Please, won’t you help? If you don’t help him, Felicity, I don’t know what’s going to happen to his career.”

Felicity paused and looked at Moira and Robert. Moira had two beautiful tear marks running down her cheeks. Felicity bit her bottom lip to keep from rolling her eyes. She’d bet her life savings that the theatrics were all for show. Moira Queen was a lot of things, but teary had never been one of them.

Dr. Robert Queen simply stared at her appraisingly. He’d never been Felicity’s biggest fan, so it surprised Felicity that he agreed to have her be the one to evaluate, and possibly work with Oliver.

And then there was Donna Smoak, whose face held a disapproving look. Felicity wasn’t sure whether the look on her mother’s face was directed at her or something else. But, Felicity knew for sure her mother was going to get an earful from her.

Felicity sighed. “I’ll do the consult, Mrs. Queen, but I have to call Dr. Fei. She’d never let me forget it if I didn’t call her. Dr. Wilson, may I speak to you?”

Felicity walked off leaving her mother and the Queens behinds to use the phone at the nurse’s station. She kindly asked the nurse there to page Dr. Fei to call her at their desk before turning to Dr. Wilson.

“Dr. Wilson, you know what hospital procedure is—”

“Hospital procedure can go fuck itself, Dr. Smoak,” Slade said, not caring that his voice rang out around the floor. “You know you’d be called in on this. You are the doctor I wanted to call, I’m the surgeon on this, and I have the final say. Fuck Dr. Fei. What’s your problem, anyway? I thought you’d be salivating over this. This is the assignment of a lifetime for a lightweight doctor like you. Besides, you’re damn good. Once you get him back to where he should be, you’re going to be scouted by every major pro team known to man.”

“I like my job. I like it here,” Felicity spoke through gritted teeth, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the nurse’s station.

“Then you’re even more short-sighted than I imagined. Take the assignment, Felicity. It would do you good.” Dr. Wilson left Oliver’s chart on the desk and walked back toward the Queens and her mother.

Felicity sighed and opened Oliver’s chart. Anterior Cruciate Ligament reconstruction. That was no joke, It would take months of rehabilitation and a lot of hard work if Oliver wanted to play on that knee again.

The pretty brown-skinned nurse at the desk caught Felicity’s attention, handing her the phone. Felicity muttered a ‘thank you,’ and took a deep breath.

“Felicity, what is it?” Dr. Fei’s light voice filtered through the line. It made Felicity relax, marginally, even though she knew that Shado Fei was not to be taken lightly.

“Dr. Fei, a new surgical patient is requesting a physical therapy consult, and Dr. Wilson had me called down to take it.”

A soft sigh met the end of Felicity’s statement. “Of course he did. The man has no regard for the way things should be done, although, I would’ve probably assigned you on it anyway. Take the consult, Dr. Smoak. I’ll handle Dr. Wilson.”

“Are you certain?” Please don’t be certain, please take this one yourself, Felicity thought.

“I’m certain, Felicity,” Her words were light, but the order was unmistakable.

Felicity said goodbye and handed the phone back to the nurse with another ‘thank you.’ She picked up Oliver’s file and took her time walking back to Oliver’s parents and her mother.

“Got cleared, okay, Dr. Smoak?” Dr. Wilson nodded, his tone patronizing.

“If Dr. Wilson’s prognosis is correct,” she began, smirking slightly as he scowled at her. “Mr. Queen’s injury is going to need months of intensive therapy. A total ACL reconstruction is one thing, but if he wants to continue to play professional football, he’s going to need more therapy than the average person. My recommendation is that he receives daily treatment over the next several months. There are several excellent sports therapists and I’m sure the team trainer could give you a recommendation as well.”

Felicity drew in a breath and slowly let it out. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She could easily go in and tell Oliver the same things and recommend a colleague.

Felicity took a step towards the door. “We should go in and see Mr. Queen. Let him know his prognosis. Dr. Wilson, after you.”

“Honey,” Felicity’s mother caught her attention before could move into Oliver’s room. “I’m going to go now that Dr. Queen is here with Moira. Your father’s appointment is this afternoon. I expect you to call me later.”

“Mom,” Felicity began, counting to three in her head. “I can’t even imagine what you could want to talk to me about right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so angry with you. Go home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Honey, I love you,” Donna caught her daughter’s arm before she could move away, forcing her to look at her.

“I love you, too. Go home.”

  
  
  


Dr. Wilson entered the room followed by the Queens, then by Felicity. Felicity didn’t cower in the background though; she figured the sooner she got this over with, the better.

Oliver was propped up on the bed, his head turned toward the window when they walked in. His left leg immobilized, propped atop the bed. He had a nice view of the downtown Starling, but Felicity would wager her year’s salary that he wasn’t seeing it at all.

“Mr. Queen,” Dr. Wilson called, but Oliver didn’t turn his attention from the window. “Mr. Queen, I’m Dr. Wilson, I’m the surgeon who operated on your knee. We’re here to talk about your diagnosis and your treatment. Dr. Smoak here is the best physical therapist in Starling and has agreed to take on your case.”

“Smoak?” Oliver asked, his face finally turning from the window toward where his family and Felicity stood. “Felicity?”

When Oliver turned to face Felicity, her breath caught in her throat. It didn’t seem right that Oliver would still be just as beautiful as she remembered, but somehow he’d grown even more exquisite. And this close to him, it was impossible to miss how blue and clear his eyes were, even if he looked a bit worn down. He took up a significant amount of space, even lying prone in the bed. The breadth of him unmistakable, even in the too ugly hospital gown.

For his part, Oliver looked astonished. Thunderstruck. His mouth dropped open and he took a deep breath as he looked her over. She watched his eyes track over her face, the wonderment on his own clear, and slightly amusing.

For the longest time, she thought she’d be seeing that face for the rest of her life.

Funny how things don’t work out the way you planned them.

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed out again. “What—”

“Well, first,” Felicity sprang into action, cutting across whatever Oliver was going to say. She handed the chart over to Dr. Wilson and moved to Oliver’s bedside. She took control of the bed and sat him upright. “You need to keep your leg moving right now. Resting it like this isn’t going to help you. Nothing too extreme, but leaving your leg extended is going to cause more problems than it helps.”

To the untrained eye, Felicity looked calm, resplendent even as she stood beside Oliver’s bed giving him instructions. She knew what to do, had degrees and training after all, and remained the most sought after PT in the hospital—she would have the final word. Inside, however, Felicity’s stomach tied itself in knots, and her hands grew clammy. If she took a deep breath, she might burst into tears.

Oliver stared at her for a moment, not saying anything. She dismissed the feelings that having his eyes roam over her produced—ignoring the way she felt grew easier throughout the years since they’d last seen one another.

“Mr. Queen, I’m here to—”

“Felicity?” she heard the obvious plea in Oliver’s voice this time. He turned his body toward her, his face pinching as he did. Moira rushed to his side and helped him as best she could. “What are you doing here?”

I’ve asked myself the same thing, she thought.

“I’m here to do your therapy consult, Mr. Queen.”

Oliver stared at her. His lips moved soundlessly as he watched her, an unbelieving expression crossing his face. Just say you don’t want me here, just say something, she thought.

“Oliver, sweetheart,” Moira began. “Felicity’s agreed to be your physical therapist. She came highly recommended. Even Coach Steele thinks so. He’s been offering her a training position for years.”

Moira’s eyes cut toward where Felicity stood. How’d Moira known that?

Of course, she knew that Felicity mentally scoffed. That woman knows everything.

“I’ve only agreed to do the initial consult, Mrs. Queen. There are several very talented physical therapists in Starling. Plus, Mr. Queen’s injury is going to require someone full-time since I imagine he’ll want to get back to playing as soon as possible.”

“Mr. Queen? Really Felicity?” Oliver spoke, drawing Felicity’s attention back to his face.

Oliver was beautiful—unfairly so. He and Tom Brady were always neck-in-neck in those silly US Weekly or People magazine polls on who was the ‘hottest sports star’ of the week. Looking into his face nearly had Felicity running from the room. Blue eyes that sometimes haunted her sleeping hours were now staring at her, unblinking. His hair was cropped shorter than she remembered. She can’t help but think of the occasions she ran her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp. The sounds he would make. Even sitting there in that terrible hospital gown, he still made her want things, made her heart flutter. Even after fifteen years. He probably always would, and that’s why she couldn’t work with him full time. No way would she put her heart on the line again.

“I know it’s been many years, but I think we’re closer than last names and titles, don’t you?”

Felicity’s heart beat an uneven rhythm, her breath coming much too fast. She tried to casually press the back of her hand to her clammy forehead.

“If you’d like.”

“Dr. Smoak,” Dr. Queen spoke for the first time since Felicity had been called to the consult. “I know you’ve only agreed to do the consult, but we, Moira and I, would consider it a personal favor if you would work with Oliver.”

Dr. Robert Queen’s soft, cultured tones didn’t fool Felicity. Neither did his request. She knew the type of pull Dr. Queen had as one of the leading thoracic surgeons in Starling, as well as a very influential voice with hospital administration. He could simply snap his fingers and have her resignation to the hospital board and ensure that Felicity would never work within a one hundred mile radius of Starling again.

Felicity’s stomach started to hurt again. Why, why today of all days?

“I’m sure I can talk to Dr. Fei and have your patients reassigned to other therapists.”

Felicity looked at Dr. Queen. His face not nearly as beautiful as his son’s, nor welcoming. Where Oliver’s face held warmth and life, Dr. Queen’s held ruthless contempt—at least where Felicity was concerned.

‘Message received,’ Felicity thought, refusing to be cowed by the man who’d despised her relationship with his only son.

“That’s very generous of you, Dr. Queen,” Felicity responded, attempting to keep her contempt out of her voice. “Let’s talk about treatment.”

Dr. Queen and Moira listened while Dr. Wilson talked about the procedure and how well the reconstruction went. Felicity laid out the best and worst-case scenarios for them. It was January, so training camp for The Archers would start in late July. For Oliver to be ready for summer training camp, they were looking at an aggressive PT regiment. If he waited out the season, then the sessions wouldn’t need to be quite as intense.

“Well, we’re going to need something aggressive obviously,” Moira smoothed back her slightly rumpled blonde hair. “We’d like Oliver to be your only patient.”

“Yes, Mrs. Queen,” Felicity nodded. “I gathered that from Dr. Queen’s request. I’m—that’s fine.”

“Well good, we’ll have a car come and pick you up in the morning then.”

Felicity looked baffled. “I’m sorry. What for?”

Moira and Dr. Queen shared a look that set Felicity’s teeth on edge. You are a professional, Felicity, you will not react like a petulant child.

“Because dear,” Moira’s voice held a touch more condescension than Felicity liked. “You’ll be staying with Oliver during his recovery, of course.”

“I—what? No. No, I won’t. I’m willing to take on Oliver as a private patient, but it’s—”

“It’s pointless and wasteful,” Dr. Queen began looking directly at Felicity, “for anything else to suffice. Oliver has an incredible facility at his home. Coming to the hospital every single day for months isn’t going to be reassuring to the Archers’ franchise.”

“Okay, that I understand, but there’s no reason for me to move into Oliver’s home.” Felicity wished desperately that there was something she could do with her hands at the moment besides wring them. Maybe like wrap them around someone’s throat.

“Having a woman come in and out of Oliver’s house at odd times every day isn’t good for anyone’s reputation either,” Moira said.

“Uh, so, I’m sorry,” Felicity shook her head. “I just—this feels rather unnecessary. And I wouldn’t want to cramp Oliver’s style by being in his home.”

“Oh, so you all do remember I’m here. That’s nice,” Oliver’s voice rang out, low and rough. He turned his head, sending a hard look Felicity’s way. She rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to his parents.

“Darling,” Moira patted Oliver’s hand. “Your father and I simply want what’s best for you. You’re going to need care that extends beyond the norm if your wish is still to play professional football.”

Dr. Queen came to stand beside Moira, addressing his son for the first time. “You’ll do this Oliver because I know you don’t want to stop playing now, and I think Dr. Smoak is our best hope for that.”

Oh, help. Felicity thought.

* * *

“You have to do what, where?”

“I’m moving to Oliver’s house as his full-time physical therapist. Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Quarterback Oliver Queen?”

“Yes, Iris, do you know another Oliver Queen?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Iris asked colorfully. She sat on Felicity’s bed, a glass of wine in hand, watching her best friend move lethargically around her room, throwing random items into the giant open suitcase on the bed.

“No, Iris, I’m not fucking kidding. I’ve been conscripted to do this. I don’t have a choice. Trust me, I’d rather do almost anything else. The last place I want to be is in a house with Oliver every day until he’s strong enough to play football again. But I can’t say no, you know I can’t.”

“I had no idea you were so ambitious,” Iris leaned over to the suitcase, plucking out a hideous sleep shirt Felicity just threw inside the bag. “So, you’re just going to go and live with the man we went to elementary, middle, and high school with, who was, and probably still is, the love of your life because you don’t want to lose your job?”

Felicity stopped in the middle of the room to stare at Iris. “He’s not the love of my life.”

“Mhmm,” Iris finished the little sip of wine in the bottom of her glass before hopping off of Felicity’s bed. “Sure, whatever you say, Fe, but just in case,” Iris opened the top of Felicity’s chest of drawers. “You should pack these.” Iris pulled out a very scandalous, lacy and skimpy red bra and matching panties that she’d bought for Felicity a year ago.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Get real, Iris.”

“I’m just saying, Fe, hope springs eternal.”

“Stop that,” Felicity said, grabbing the lingerie from Iris and shoving it back into the drawer. “And I’m not ambitious, I mean, I am ambitious, just not in the way I know you mean, but I’m just trying to keep my job. You know the type of pull the Queens have. If I don’t do this, I’d be out of a job.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Or…maybe you would. I don’t know. We’d have to get Laurel on the line to ask about the legality of that. But hey, I could write a scathing piece about the Queens—an exposé. What I’m saying, Fe, is that you have options.”

“You’ve forgotten that your boss and Dr. Queen are old college chums. We can’t escape their influence in Starling, Iris.”

Iris shrugged and threw herself across Felicity’s bed. “I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape. So you have to spend some uncomfortable months with Oliver. So what? You’re going to be a household name by the time you’re through working your magic. You’re going to have places chomping at the bit trying to get you to work for them. Not to mention, you’ll probably get to be around some very fit men. What’s not to love?”

Felicity stood in her closet and sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to rid her mind of the memory of Oliver’s skin beneath her hands as she’d evaluated his incision and range of motion earlier that day. His skin was smooth to the touch—the fine hair on his leg so soft. Her fingers trembled as she looked him over, and she swore he gasped when her fingers touched him, but she couldn’t be sure.

She took a deep breath and fought the tears gathering in her eyes. She tried to count to ten, but only got halfway through before she gave into them.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said softly.

“Damn it, Felicity. Yes, you can,” Iris’ voice was loud and succinct. “You can’t let him have this much power over you, Fe. It’s been years.”

“I know it’s been years,” Felicity yelled, coming out to face Iris. “I know that I know that I look weak, but it’s not as easy as it seems.”

“You were eighteen. You’re thirty-three years old. You grew up, so did he. You’ve got to let it go or it’s going to eat you alive.”

Felicity sank to the bed and put her hands in her head. “I know.”

“Look,” Iris braced Felicity’s face between her hands. “You’re a spectacular therapist. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re a catch. Forget what he did to you, forget his parents and do your job. I know he hurt you, but if you go in there and act weak, they’ll trample all over you. You’re better than that Felicity Smoak, and you’re not that girl anymore. You can do this. Besides, it’s not like you’re under house arrest. Any time you call, I’ll be there to get you if it’s too much.”

Felicity threw her arms around Iris’ shoulders, grateful for her friend and grateful for Iris’ reasonable voice.

So what, they’d had a romance all those years ago. Felicity would comport herself as a professional because she was simply the best—she could do this. Besides, she didn’t believe Oliver would even think of her in that way ever again. His revolving door of women would make it easy for Felicity to guard her heart against ever falling in love with Oliver Queen again.

* * *

For the first time since his accident, Oliver thought about something other than the possible end of his career.

All of his thoughts were on Felicity— who he hadn’t seen in fifteen years, who’d shattered his heart all those years ago, and casually walked back into it that day as if it didn’t faze her at all.

Had she kept up with his career the way he’d kept up with hers? She knew what he did for a living, but she would have to be blind or willfully ignorant to miss the huge Starling Archers billboards throughout the city, emblazoned with his face.

And now she’d be living in his home. The woman he could never truly forget, who mere hours ago, stood at his bedside calling him ‘Mr. Queen’ as if he were just another patient she had to see.

He lurched forward slightly, the movement involuntary. It’s just because you haven’t seen her in so long, he reasoned with himself. He shut his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly, then again. It did nothing to stop the pit of ache that had opened in his chest since seeing her in his room. Confident and self-assured and calling him Mr. Queen.

He didn’t often appreciate his father’s heavy-handedness, but on this one occasion, he welcomed it wholeheartedly. He would get to see Felicity every day. She would be in his house and he’d—maybe they’d find their way back to one another.

“Who am I kidding?”

“Honey, who are you talking to?” Moira asked walking back into the room. She pulled up a chair at the side of his bed and gently patted his hand.

He turned toward her and gave her a small smile. “No one, mom.”

“You’re going to be okay, you know,” Moira stated, her hand grasping his tightly.

Oliver stared at his mother and quietly asked, “Why her, mom?”

Moira sighed and placed a hand on his cheek. “She’s the best, sweetheart. You know that. I know you’ve kept tabs on her; I know you know about her career. It shouldn’t be a shock that she’d be the therapist to help you.”

Oliver rested his head back on the pillow. He couldn’t wait to leave the hospital, but now he almost dreaded going home.

“Did Helena ever come by?”

Moira’s face tightened for a fraction of a second before smoothing back out again. If Oliver blinked, he would have missed it.

“No sweetheart, but she called. She got held up in Central City. Said she’d call you soon.”

Oliver sighed. He knew his mother didn’t particularly care for his girlfriend, Helena. Since Felicity entered and left the room, however, he’d barely given a thought to her. He vaguely wondered how she would feel about another woman moving into his house when he rarely let her stay for the weekend.

“Everything is going to work out fine, sweetheart. You’ll see.”

“She called me Mr. Queen, mom. Like we’d never even met before,” Oliver’s voice broke slightly as he spoke. He turned his head away from his mother not wanting her to see him like this, even though he knew she’d understand.

Moira sat next to Oliver on the bed and gently stroked his hair. “She was probably as overwhelmed as you were, sweetheart. I promise you, everything is going to be fine. Trust me.”

* * *

The next morning an exhausted Felicity answered the knock at her door to find a sharply dressed man on the other side.

“Dr. Smoak,” the man began, “I’m Eric, one of Mrs. Queen’s drivers. She requested that I bring you and your things to the hospital this morning. To make it easier for you and Mr. Queen when he’s discharged later.”

“Okay,” Felicity nodded. She felt some of her agency beginning to cede to the will of the Queens. “I’ll just be thirty minutes. I’m all packed. Do you want to come in for a moment?”

“No, ma’am,” Eric replied kindly. “I’ll wait out in the car, but I’d be happy to grab your bags for you if you’d like.”

Felicity spent the next thirty minutes going around her house double-checking that things were unplugged, the last of her perishable items discarded from the fridge, and checking that the thermostats were all turned up.

She told the Queens yesterday that the best-case scenario for an aggressive rehabilitation would be six months.

Six months of living with Oliver. Six months of touching him daily—even though it wouldn’t be in a sexual manner. Six months of putting her life on hold for someone she never thought she’d see again.

When she finally arrived at the hospital, she felt off entering and not going directly to her rehab floor. As promised, Dr. Queen made sure that Dr. Fei reassigned all of her patients. Dr. Fei asked that she just get started right away and not check in with her former patients; Dr. Fei understood the pull the Queens had and didn’t fault Felicity for her choice, and helped make the transition an easier one. The gratitude she felt toward her boss and mentor couldn’t quite be measured.

Felicity paused outside of Oliver’s private room and took a few fortifying breaths before knocking lightly on the door and entering.

“Good morning,” Felicity murmured at Moira and Oliver. They both turned, smiling warmly at her. It made her pause, but she took it in stride, turning to speak to Oliver. “Have you gotten out of bed today?”

Might as well jump right in, Felicity thought.

Oliver stared for a beat before shaking his head.

“Well, let’s do that, shall we?” Felicity moved to the corner across from the bed where a pair of crutches were propped. “You’re going to use these, but just for the week. To sign off on your release, I need to make sure you’re okay bearing weight on your leg.”

“So soon?” Moira asked, surprise obvious in her tone.

Felicity gave a perfunctory nod. She moved back to Oliver’s bedside and gingerly touched the brace on his leg. “Need help taking this off?”

Felicity saw his eyebrows shoot up as she felt her face filled with color. Shaking her head, she tried again, “I mean, you can probably get it yourself, I was just—”

“It’s fine, Felicity,” Oliver interrupted. She sighed watching him struggle for a moment before moving to help him.

“Felicity, I can—”

“I know,” she began, “but this way is easier, here.” She leaned over and removed the side stabilizer before gently separating the velcro at the sides, slipping the brace from around his leg. “Swing your legs around this way and stand up. I’m glad you have on shorts. I mean, not that I expected you to be naked, or that I was thinking about that or anything, it’s just—this is easier if you’re not in a hospital gown, ass out, so…”

Felicity blew out a breath, keeping her gaze locked on his knees as he slowly moved them toward her.

“Did you do the exercises I assigned you last night?”

When Oliver didn’t say anything, she forced herself to look at him. He looked tired, but still somehow mischievous.

He nodded at her, but it was Moira who spoke up. “Yes, he did. I made sure he did.”

“Good,” Felicity turned to her. “That’s good. Alright. Stand up, let’s see how you are putting weight on it.”

Felicity moved back from the bed clutching the crutches in front of her as a barrier. Oliver got his feet beneath him and slowly stood from the bed. Soon, her eyes were level with his collarbone and broad shoulders. She didn’t remember Oliver this way; of course, he’d been a star athlete in school, fit, extremely fit, but never like this.

He took her breath away. The breadth and the power of his arms and shoulders were unmistakable. Even after a hospital stay, he somehow managed to be devastatingly good looking.

Felicity had to tilt her head back to look into his face. She took a step back, her eyes sweeping down the length of his body. He held his left leg slightly off the ground.

“Put your leg down, Oliver,” she frowned, her gaze sweeping back to his face as he did what she instructed. He grimaced, his teeth slightly bared. “Does that hurt?”

“Well, it doesn’t feel great,” he bit out, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m just—”

“Oliver,” she shook her head at him. “This isn’t going to work if you’re not honest with me about your pain or if you apologize every two minutes. Your goal is to get better, my goal is to make that happen. I just need to know where you are so I have a good starting point, alright?”

Oliver nodded, and Felicity moved further back from him, the look on his face causing her breath to stutter.

Felicity handed the crutches over to him. “I know you know how to use these, so we’ll skip the instructions. We’re going to take a walk up and down the hall, alright? Not too fast, I just need to see how you move.”

Felicity bit her lip as she watched him move around the bed and out of the room. His gait favored his right leg, as was typical after this type of injury.

“Try to put as much weight as you can bear on your left leg, Oliver,” she quickly came up behind him on his left, her hand resting lightly on his hip. “I don’t want you to overexert, but I don’t want you to get in the habit of just overcompensating with your right side. It’s a hard habit to break.”

They made a circuit of the hallway twice before an exhausted Oliver gladly returned to his bed. Felicity put his crutches back in the corner and came to stand at his bedside once more.

Moira joined her, lovingly patting Oliver’s hand. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee, sweetheart. Would either of you like anything?”

“No, thanks, mom.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Queen.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a little while.”

Felicity let out a breath and pressed her hands firmly against the side of the bed. It was one thing to be alone with Oliver in the hallway; they weren’t alone out there. Nurses and patients bustled through as they slowly made their way up and down the hall. But this, this was something else entirely. Being alone with Oliver in his private room… Felicity sent up a silent prayer before snapping back into her professional mode.

“Alright, strength and extension tests are next. Do you need a break?”

He shook his head and gasped as her hand circled his ankle.

“You alright?” Felicity asked, looking up quickly.

“Yeah, you just, uh, startled me, a little. Plus your hands are cold. Is that a requirement of being a doctor? Cold hands?”

Felicity smirked, turning back to his ankle. She lifted his leg slightly off the bed, “Push down.”

Oliver gritted his teeth again and pressed his leg into her hand, a slight bend in his knee.

“Good. That’s good, Oliver. Now,” she moved her hand to the heel of his foot, her right hand coming to rest above his knee. “Push down again.”

They continued to move through a series of exercises: straight leg raises, quad stretches, standing hamstring curls, and sitting hip flexor rotations.

“You need to stop that,” Felicity said as she watched Oliver recline back in the hospital bed.

He looked over at Felicity. “Stop what?”

Felicity shook her head and smiled down at him, not at all fooled. “Being upset with your current abilities. Oliver, you just had major surgery. You’re not going to be where you were. Cut yourself some slack.”

Felicity touched his arm lightly and pointed to his brace. “Can you get that back on by yourself?”

He nodded and she watched him for a moment before speaking again. “I’m going to go get you some ice and talk to the nurse about discharge papers. We should be able to leave here soon.”

Felicity started to leave his bedside when his arm shot out, stilling her progress.

“Felicity,” he breathed out softly. “Thank you.”

Felicity shook her head. “You have nothing to thank me for, Oliver. It’s my job.”

“I think we both know that’s not true. Look, I know you’ve been conned into doing this. Don’t—” he put up a hand when she started to speak. “I know how my father operates, I know what he’s capable of. I told him I didn’t think it was right, just so you know. I don’t—I don’t want you to be here against your will or feel like you can’t say no. I appreciate everything you did for me today, but Felicity, if you want out, I’ll talk to my parents and make sure nothing happens to you or your career. You’ve worked hard to get where you are.”

It felt as though her stomach was rising into her throat. She felt stupid all of a sudden as tears came to her eyes. Is that what she wanted? A way out? It would be too easy. Here sat an offer—her a way out of this, away from him, and a way to keep her job.

“Oliver,” she took a deep breath and steadied her gaze on his. “You wanted to play professional football since I can remember. I want to—I want to help you get back to that. I’m good at this, Oliver. I think that I’m exactly what you need.”

She bit her lip and blushed. “I mean, medically speaking. I’m what you need.”

“Yeah, I think you could be.”


	2. Postoperative Weeks 5-8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward training sessions, a Queen-sized party, and a fight.

“Try again.”

“Felicity.”

“Oliver, try again.”

Oliver clenched his teeth as he attempted to fully extend his left leg while sitting on the training mats in his weight room. Felicity knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting beneath his knee.

“Oliver, we’re going to have a lot of issues in the coming weeks if you can’t fully extend your leg.”

He grumbled out an incoherent reply that sounded a lot like cursing.

In the two weeks since Felicity moved into Oliver’s home, they’d managed to settle into an amicable, unspoken arrangement—they didn’t talk about, bring up, or even hint at their shared past. Oliver’s physical therapy sessions dominated the majority of their days; it comforted Felicity to be able to focus solely on what she excelled at while doing her utmost not to think about Oliver in any other capacity. Whatever they had in the past didn’t appear to have any effect on their present, and it relieved Felicity to not have that looming over her—at least that’s what she made herself believe.

For Felicity, the best part about staying with Oliver was his extraordinarily well-equipped workout facility—one of the best she’d ever seen outside the multi-million dollar sports franchise facilities. It even rivaled what Starling City General had to offer, which said a lot, as SCG had one of the top rehabilitation facilities in the country. The amount of equipment, amazing therapy pools and ice baths that Oliver had shouldn’t have surprised her, but they did.

Still, even though she would’ve given anything to work full-time in this type of environment, this one still came with Oliver—who currently struggled beside her, willing his body to cooperate with her demands.

“You’re terrible, you know that, right?” Oliver bit out through clenched teeth, but his tone lacked any real heat.

“Yep,” Felicity replied happily as he fully extended his leg. “Hold it for five seconds. One-two-three-four-five. Good. That’s really good, Oliver. Relax.”

He dropped back onto the mats on the floor, slinging an arm across his face.

“Try not to be too dramatic, Oliver,” she teased from beside him.

She turned to roll up some extra mats and weighted bands, checking his reflection in the long mirrors she faced. She watched the steady rhythm of his chest lifting up and down, taking just a moment to appreciate him without his knowledge.

“When my parents said you were the best, they didn’t also say you enjoyed the pain of your patients,” Oliver said breaking into her reverie.

Felicity shook her head. “Oh Oliver. One of these days you’ll learn not make fun the person helping you get better.”

She walked back over to where he laid and extended a hand to him. He grabbed it almost immediately and Felicity fought against the shiver that shot up her arm.

“Ten minutes on the bike, then you’re done until this afternoon.”

He groaned, but took it in stride, moving slowly, but much stronger than a couple of weeks prior.

“You look good,” Felicity said watching his gait as he made his way to the bike.

Oliver chuckled. “Glad I can give you a good show, Smoak.”

Felicity turned back to gathering up the rest of the equipment they’d used. She heard Oliver continuing to laugh behind her even as the bike started to whir to life.

* * *

Oliver watched Felicity move around the room as he turned up the resistance level on the bike. She’d probably be aggravated when she came over to check on him. She’d probably say _‘even though you feel stronger Oliver, this is a process, let’s not skip steps, okay?’_ in that voice that made a smile break over his face without provocation. 

He found himself staring at her quite often, though it simply couldn’t be helped. It seemed as though there would always be some version of Felicity that would draw him in. He tracked her movements around his gym, taking in her well-fitted yoga pants and SCG polo; he remained acutely aware of everything she did, everywhere she moved. He even knew when she’d been in a room he walked into, the familiar scent of honeysuckle, something she hadn’t changed since high school apparently, lingering lightly in the air. It took everything in him to focus on the tasks she gave him daily. To watch something other than her mouth when she spoke to him.

He hadn’t really considered having Felicity share a space with him, not really. The excitement of having her back in his life trumped any real thoughts of logistics. He had a rather large home, not as spacious or overwhelming as the Queen mansion, but substantive. Having Felicity live with him started to feel like living one-room apartment, but he couldn’t bring himself to be too bothered by it.

The timer on the bike started beeping, letting him know his ten minutes were through.

“Alright,” Felicity said, walking over to him. “You’re done for this morning. I’ll see you back here at three, okay?”

She smiled briefly at him but turned before he could reply, walking back to the little office attached to the gym. He knew she went in there after his sessions to record his progress and update his file. He got off the bike with a sigh, his knee a little stiff, but markedly better than before.

Deciding his hunger won out over a shower, Oliver made his way to kitchen, stopping in the doorway, confused at the sight that faced him.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Oliver asked as he watched his mother place a salad dish in the middle of the kitchen table. “And Raisa? Hello. What are you both doing here?” Raisa stood at the stove, sending him a quick wink before turning back to the pot she was stirring.

“I didn’t realize I needed an invitation to come to your house for lunch, and Raisa is here because she knows all your favorites and I don’t.” Moira came up to Oliver and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I just wanted to check on you and have lunch with my son. Where’s Felicity?”

Oliver look at his mother in disbelief. Moira Queen never ‘stopped by’ without a reason. “We, uh, just finished our session. She’s still in gym.”

“Go and get her, dear.” Moira patted his shoulder. “Have her join us for lunch.”

Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but saw the look his mother gave him and capitulated. He turned and slowly made his way back to his gym, grateful once again for his mother’s heavy-handed nature, although he didn’t actually want to make things more awkward than necessary. The Felicity he knew years ago hadn’t been a big fan of his mother’s, and he could never really get a complete read on his mom in regards to Felicity. He’d ignored the not so subtle hints about Felicity and whether or not she was an ‘appropriate’ girlfriend for him. Oliver remembered being annoyed with his mother—and his father—but he’d never really done anything about it. Maybe he should’ve…maybe his parents had said something to—

“Oliver!”

Oliver reared back, almost stumbling until he felt Felicity’s hands grip his biceps.

“Wow, you’re pretty strong,” he fumbled slightly over the words. “Sorry, I was thinking. I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah,” she smirked at him and it made his heart beat a little faster. “I got that by the fact that you nearly ran into me.”

“Sorry—sorry. I—my mother is here and she brought Raisa. For lunch, she’s making lunch. Raisa, not my mom, that would be horrible. She’s not really a great cook. My mom, obviously.”

_Get it together, Queen. What the hell?_

Felicity nodded. “That’s nice. Have a good lunch with your mom.”

She moved to go around him, but Oliver stopped her by gently grabbing on her wrist. “My mom would like you to join us. If you’re free and don’t have any other plans,” Oliver paused, ducking his chin to look down at her. She bit at her bottom lip, looking more uncomfortable than he’d seen her since this whole strange affair began.

“I’d like you to join us, too,” he whispered, walking a little more into her space, making her crane her neck a bit. Her wrist twitched slightly in his grasp, but he didn’t let her go. He let his thumb trace over the steady pulse beneath her soft skin.

“S-sure,” she stuttered. Two pink spots bloomed prettily on her cheeks causing Oliver to grin widely.

“Great!” he said loudly, taking his time dropping her wrist before turning and walking towards the kitchen.

****  
  
  
  


Felicity took a deep breath, trying valiantly to prepare herself for whatever waited for her at this lunch. She thought about slipping away, taking the stairs off the kitchen to her room. She guessed Oliver must have sensed this fact as he turned over his shoulder and grabbed her again by the wrist, which tingled in his grasp.

She tamped down a full-body shudder; his calloused fingers were warm and steady against her pulse. It was completely unfair that something so simple made her so aware.

“Felicity,” Moira started toward her, arms outstretched. On instinct, Felicity moved her body closer to Oliver, treating him a bit like a shield, but Moira wasn’t deterred. She enveloped Felicity in a hug that didn’t linger very long and honestly didn’t feel all that warm—more perfunctory.

Moira pulled back and pointed toward the kitchen table. “I’m so glad you could join us for lunch. You remember Raisa don’t you?”

Felicity turned to the one woman who’d welcomed her into the Queen household for so many years; pulling her arm from Oliver’s grasp, she walked over to Raisa giving her a hug without reservation.

“It’s so good to see you, Ms. Felicity,” Raisa whispered into her ear. “I’m so proud of you, you know?”

Felicity felt tears threatening to fall, so she squeezed Raisa a little tighter. “It’s so lovely to see you, Raisa. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well, любимый.”

Felicity smiled at the endearment. “Sit,” Raisa pushed her toward the table laden with far too much food for a Wednesday afternoon lunch.

“Are other people coming over?” Oliver asked. Felicity bit back a snicker as she sat down at the table, Oliver taking the seat beside her.

“Wait,” Felicity stood, using Oliver’s shoulder as leverage out of the chair. She moved around the table, grabbing an extra chair and settling it beside Oliver. “Up,” she ordered, pointing to his left leg.

Oliver arched a brow, but did as asked without complaint.

“I’ll get you some ice.” Felicity touched his knee lightly, without any real need to. “We upped your reps today, you need to keep it elevated while you’re seated. It’ll help.”

“I’ll get the ice,” Raisa said, setting down a bowl of olive salad, a favorite of Felicity’s. “You sit and eat.”

Felicity started to respond, but saw the look that Raisa gave her, and capitulated, sitting back down in her seat. She turned her attention to Oliver quickly to see a smirk settled over his features.

“So things are progressing well then?” Moira asked reaching into the center of the table for a dish of eggplant cutlets.

“Yes, they are. Oliver has been a…well, I wouldn’t say excellent patient, but he’s done what he’s needed to do.”

“Hey, I’ve been an excellent patient. You’re a bit of a tyrant, Smoak,” Oliver complained.

Felicity rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Moira. “Whatever. He’s progressing really well. He’s right where he should be right now, and I’m confident that he’s well on track for recovery.”

Moira’s broad smile looked genuine, and it threw Felicity off a little. In all the years Felicity had known Moira, she could honestly say she’d rarely seen that expression flit across the usually austere woman’s face.

“That’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Oliver? I just knew you were the right choice for Oliver’s physical therapist.”

Felicity smiled and nodded, not really sure how else to respond to Moira. She reached for the olive salad and scooped a little onto her plate before holding the bowl out to Oliver.

“How are you parents doing, Felicity?” Moira asked her attention fully on Felicity. “It was such a shock to see Donna in the hospital. I didn’t even know your father was sick.”

Felicity’s paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down and looked directly at Moira seeing only curiosity, but Felicity knew there must be something else at play. What did Moira Queen care about Felicity Smoak’s hodgepodge family?

“She’s fine. They’re fine. Thank you,” Felicity replied shortly.

“Father?” Oliver turned his body to her, his body creating an awkward angle. “But, didn’t your dad left, didn’t—”

“Donna got re-married years ago, Oliver. Don’t you remember? Oh, probably not. You were…well…you weren’t doing so well at the time.” Moira pushed a piece of hair back. Felicity thought it must’ve been habit since there were no hairs even marginally out of place. She cleared her throat and continued, “they’ve been married about, what, eight years now, right?”

“Yes.” Felicity pushed her food around her plate wishing for a subject change, but knowing better. Moira Queen seemed to be on a fishing expedition.

Oliver hissed lightly drawing Felicity’s attention. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Raisa set a bag of ice over Oliver’s knee.

“You regularly get in ice baths after games, Queen,” Felicity snarked, no real bite in her tone. “A little bag of ice isn’t going to kill you.”

“It was unexpected,” Oliver quipped back, throwing a devastating smile her way. “So, who’d your mom marry?”

Felicity sighed and sat back in her chair. “A cop, detective—well, former now, I guess.”

“Quentin Lance,” Moira interjected. “You should remember him, Oliver. Used to pick you up in your younger, truant days.”

“Wow,” Oliver looked steadily at Felicity. “How’d he and your mom meet?”

Felicity shrugged. “You know my mom, all impulse and very little thought,” she gave him a tight smile. “She was getting off her shift and some guy stole her purse and Detective Lance caught him. She asked him out for a drink, and then a month later they were married.”

“So, you had a lot to adjust to coming home, huh?”

Felicity tilted her head at him. He shrugged and continued.

“I mean…your mom getting remarried is a lot, but doesn’t Lance have daughters? I seem to remember Tommy trying to date one of them. I know they didn’t go to school with us, but…Wasn’t that…I don’t know, strange for you?”

Felicity stared at him for a moment.

“Yeah. I mean, no, it wasn’t—isn’t weird. But yes, I have step-sisters—two of them—Laurel and Sara. Neither of them is terrible in the Cinderella way. Not that my life has any resemblance to Cinderella in any way it was just—” Felicity stopped abruptly and looked down at her plate, counting slowly.

“And he’s…sick now?” Oliver prodded, continuing to look at her.

“Yeah,” Felicity set her fork down and pushed back from the table. “Thank you for lunch, Raisa, Mrs. Queen, but I’m not really all that hungry.”

“Oh please don’t go, Felicity. I’m sorry,” Moira apologized. Felicity couldn’t really gauge its sincerity, and that annoyed her to no end. “Your mother didn’t really tell me much, but I was just so grateful to run into her. It seemed like providence at the moment. I, of course, knew about your career and, as I said in the hospital, your work speaks for itself. Anyway, we don’t have to talk about your family anymore, alright?”

“Thank you.” Felicity took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes sliding over to Oliver’s. He looked at her with an expression she’d seen a lot on his face many years before, but didn’t want to analyze at the moment.

She quickly turned away and picked up her fork, shuttling food from one side of the plate to the other.

“You know what I think we should do?” Moira spoke, another grin breaking over her face. “We should have a party here Oliver. To celebrate your success so far.”

“Mom, let’s not—”

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take care of everything, alright. You can use that fancy grill of yours you don’t let anyone else touch and invite your teammates. And Thea will be home next week, too. Trust me, honey, a party is exactly what we need around here.”

“Alright,” Oliver said, turning to Felicity and shrugging. She smiled down at her plate, shaking her head. She knew exactly how Oliver felt at that moment—once Moira got hold of an idea, almost nothing could stop her. 

* * *

“Smoaky! Look at you! You’re hotter than I remember. Ollie didn’t tell me you got hotter, Smoaky.”

Felicity whimpered lightly as she pushed against Tommy Merlyn’s embrace. He let her go once she pulled sharply on the back of his leather jacket.

“Or is it Dr. Smoaky now? That’s what Ollie said. Said you went to USC and everything. Very impressive.”

“Thanks,” Felicity returned, trying her best to move away from him.

Oliver’s backyard looked like something out of a Hollywood movie—Moira Queen had certainly outdone herself. A huge fire pit sat in the middle of Oliver’s perfectly manicured yard; the lights strung around the garden emitted low, warm light that seemed to buzz along with the laughter and hum of those in attendance. The pool at the far end of the garden glittered brightly, but it was still a little too cool for anyone to jump in through a few of Oliver’s teammates had contemplated it.

High top round tables were scattered around the yard, unobtrusively, but providing spaces for clumps of people to gather around and talk. All in all, Moira’s Queen’s party was, of course, a hit. She’d tried to invite just about everyone she’d ever met, but luckily, Oliver had been able to talk her down from throwing her standard Queen sized party and made it a (mostly) simple get together in Oliver’s enormous backyard. Complete with almost his entire team and their significant others, and to Felicity’s surprise and delight, Iris, and her step-sister, Laurel.

And to her utter chagrin, Tommy Merlyn.

“And you,” Tommy said, turning toward Iris who stood beside Felicity, disdain clearly written on her face. “I definitely remember you, Iris West. I think your dad arrested me a couple of times.”

“Hello Tommy. I hoped to never see you again.” The smile that broke over Iris’ face made Felicity laugh a little.

Tommy turned his face down in an exaggerated frown. “Now, that’s not very nice, Iris. I remember you being nicer.”

“Well then you’ve obviously fried that memory of yours Tommy Merlyn, because I absolutely—”

“Glass of wine, Felicity, Iris?”

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief as she gratefully took the offered wine from Oliver’s teammate and friend, John Diggle.

With the Starling Archers out of the playoffs, Felicity had gotten the opportunity to meet more and more of Oliver’s teammates. She’d met John, however, that first week she’d been in Oliver’s home and instantly took a liking to him.

Besides being unbelievably attractive, his fierce loyalty to Oliver clear, and was turning out to be one of the best people she’d ever met.

“Thank you, John,” Felicity took a sip quickly before pointing between John and Iris. “Have you two met?”

“Yeah, a little earlier,” Iris giggled slightly before shaking her and taking the glass of wine from him. “Thanks John.”

“You’re welcome,” John smiled and Felicity had to laugh at the slightly starry-eyed look on Iris’ face. “Hey Felicity,” John continued, “Oliver’s asking for you. He’s over by the grill.”

“Great, thank you,” Felicity said, nodding hurriedly. “Tommy,” she didn’t say anything else as she beat a fast retreat to the opposite side of the party. It may be difficult to be in close proximity to Oliver, but in her opinion, it sure beat spending any extended amount of time around Tommy Merlyn. She did feel slightly bad for leaving Iris with him, but a quick look over her shoulder revealed Iris talking with John, the Archer’s star kicker—Barry Allen, and a few other assorted players she didn’t quite know by name.

Yeah, Iris would be just fine, especially since she was in close proximity to her long time sports crush—Barry Allen.

“Hey,” Felicity breathed out as she reached the grill Oliver manned. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He turned from the grill and smiled widely at her. Felicity swallowed hard and her fingers clutched more tightly at the stem of her wine glass; she wondered vaguely if there would ever be a moment when his smile didn’t disarm her.

Felicity pointed over her shoulder. “John said you wanted to see me.”

Oliver shook his head, his gaze moving towards his friend, eye narrowed. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, alright,” Felicity shrugged and went to leave, but stopped when Oliver’s hand came to rest on her hip for a brief moment, then it was gone. It almost felt like she’d imagined the light brush of his fingers.

“You don’t have to go, though. You can stay and keep me company,” he said, turning another smile on her, seemingly unaware of how it made her feel.

“Okay.” Felicity nervously brushed her hand down her ponytail when he turned back to the grill. She searched for something to say but came up short. She swirled her wine around her glass as she watched him flipping over steaks and lobster tail, as well as packets of salmon.

_The Queens never were hotdogs and hamburgers people_, she thought ruefully.

“How’s your knee feel?” she asked in hopes of filling the growing silence around them. It wasn’t awkward, per se, but it didn’t feel all that great. It certainly didn’t feel easy the way it did all those years ago.

“No shop talk, Felicity. It’s a party,” he returned, the laughter in his voice apparent.

“And you’re standing over by the grill not really enjoying the party.”

“Well, who else would do this?”

“I don’t know, one of your many other friends?”

Oliver shook his head. “This is a job for the professionals, you know that.”

Felicity looked down at her wine glass, pursing her lips to keep from laughing.

“So,” Oliver closed the lid of the grill and turned to her. “Who was Digg saving you from?”

Felicity grimaced and turned over her shoulder seeing Tommy engaged in conversation with Thea and a very uncomfortable looking Laurel.

“Ah, say no more,” Oliver said, resting his right hip lightly against the side of the grill. She opened her mouth to chastise that movement, wanting to remind him that overcompensating on his right leg wasn’t something he should get used to, but he continued on. “Why did you never like Tommy?”

“No particular reason,” Felicity lied. _Except for the whole you’ll never be good enough for Oliver speech and the constant reminder of how out of my league you were_.

“No, I don’t buy that. We dated for four years and you never once warmed up to him.”

Felicity took a big gulp of her drink, wincing as she remembered that wine’s not really a chuggable beverage. They’d made it all the way up to that moment without either of them mentioning their shared past.

She honestly hoped it’d be the last.

“It doesn’t matter, really, Oliver. The past is the past.” Felicity moved her hand through the air as if she could physically move the question aside. “Where’s your girlfriend, by the way?” Felicity asked as a way of diversion; she didn’t actually want to know about the woman she’d seen pictures of while briefly skimming TMZ. “Am I ever going to get to meet her?”

Felicity watched Oliver’s face fall. He turned away and opened the lid of the grill, checking the steaks again, before lifting the lobster tails off and onto a serving plate.

“Halfway to Italy, I’d imagine, and no, you’ll probably not meet her as we’re no longer dating.”

“Oh, when did that happen?” Felicity asked, a little confused. To the best of her knowledge, Oliver hadn’t had any guests over beyond John and his mother in the time she’d been living in his home.

“Uh,” Oliver started, shifting his weight from side to side. “A couple of weeks ago.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I—it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I shouldn’t have. I just—,” Felicity paused. Of course, he hadn’t told her. Why would he? Sometimes remembering that they weren’t friends hurt a little more than she cared to admit. They didn’t share everything with one another just because they literally spent so much of their time together. She didn’t know this Oliver. Not really. And she hadn’t really decided if she wanted to know him either. The history between the two of them went so deep—she didn’t know if it would be plausible to leave any of that in the past. 

“I had no right to ask, Oliver,” she continued on, “I’m really sorry. We’re not—it was really unprofessional. Forgive me.”

“Unprofessional?” Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like we’re close or anything Oliver, or buddies enough to talk about relationships. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to talk to me about Helena.”

“Oh.” The look on Oliver’s face made a dull ache bloom in her chest. She shook it off as best she could. “Right. Sure. Just a professional relationship.” Oliver nodded at her, a thin smile on his face.

Felicity nodded back and turned to leave, but paused before she did. “Don’t stay on that leg too long. You’re getting stronger every day, but rest is still part of the regimen, alright?”

She didn’t give Oliver a chance to reply as she quickly walked back to the party.

* * *

“You look like you just got sacked, man,” Diggle sat down beside Oliver, handing him a beer. They clinked bottles before each of them took a long, healthy drag. It was later in the evening, the party winding down, but there were still people milling about the lawn, laughing and enjoying the surprisingly mild March weather. Felicity and Iris stood off at the distance, huddled up laughing with Barry and Roy—a rookie Archers player with a big mouth and fast feet.

“It sort of feels that way,” Oliver replied.

“Hmm,” Digg's eyes followed the direction of Oliver's gaze. “I like her. You could do so much worse. In fact, you have done so much worse. Helena comes to mind.”

Oliver sighed. “Can you not, just for today, not say ‘I told you so’ about Helena?”

Diggle lifted a hand in surrender. “Fine. But this seems like a no-brainer, man. She’s definitely a cut above some of the women you’ve dated in the past.”

“It’s not that simple, Digg,” Oliver sighed before continuing. “Do you remember, when we were in Central City last year, and we got wasted after that horrible game?”

Digg winced. “Unfortunately. I seem to remember a conversation that we said we’d never speak of again, unless—wait, is she the one? That one?”

Oliver nodded and raised his beer bottle to Digg. “Yeah. Lucky me, right?”

“Oliver, man this could be great.”

Oliver turned his head to Diggle, “You're fucking joking, right?”

“This woman you told me was the one, the only one, is living in your house, nursing you back to health. Other than the obvious Florence Nightingale thing, this is a prime scenario, man.”

“Who is Florence Nightingale?”

Digg waved a dismissive hand. “Not the point. The point is that this is a good thing. Unless you do something idiotic and screw it up.”

“Why would I be the one to screw it up?”

“Really, Oliver?”

Oliver blew out a breath. He brought his beer bottle up, peering over the top of it as he watched Felicity laugh in delight at something Roy said, her hand resting on his bicep.

“Did you just growl?” Digg asked.

“It's not going to work out, Digg. She basically let me know that she doesn't want to be anything other than a professional. She's been in my home for over a month, and when I tried to find out more about her, she just…stopped talking. We don't talk about anything during our sessions but what needs to be done, and then we don't talk any other times.”

“Have you tried to talk to her again?”

Oliver shrugged one large shoulder, the frown on his face deepening as he watched Roy throw an arm around Felicity's shoulder.

He was on his feet before he even realized, stumbling slightly when his knee caught. He heard Digg moving behind him, but that didn't stop him from moving directly toward the little group in the middle of his lawn.

“Ollie!” Iris exclaimed as she walked up to him and hugged him. Oliver stilled in the embrace, incredibly confused as he remembered several tense conversations with Iris post his breakup with Felicity. He'd begged Iris for more information about Felicity. Did she like college on the east coast? Did she miss him? Was she seeing anybody? Why did she break up with him?

“Iris.” He let the hug linger for a moment before dropping his arms. “It's good to see you. It's been a while.”

She smiled widely at him, her bright brown eyes a little hazy. She moved to stand near Barry, looping an arm through his. “It has. We probably wouldn't have crossed paths anytime soon if it wasn't for Lissy.”

“Lissy?” Roy chuckled, his arm around Felicity tightening. “Oh, that's so much easier than Felicity. That's what I'm calling you from now on. Thanks, Iris.”

Felicity rolled her eyes and pressed lightly at his torso, breaking his hold on her. “Lissy is something only my friends can call me.”

“Oh come on,” Roy flashed a stunning grin, “you know you want to be friends with me.”

Oliver bit back a curse as he watched Felicity’s her face fill with color at the suggestive lilt in Roy’s voice.

“Don't flatter yourself, Harper,” Felicity replied to him, and it only may Roy preen a little more.

Roy opened his mouth to retort when he caught Oliver's eye—Oliver’s expression apparently enough to make Roy back down. Roy leaned away from Felicity slightly, his arms coming up in surrender. “You wound me, Felicity.”

“Iris, how do you like working at the newspaper?” Oliver asked loudly, slowly moving his penetrating gaze from Roy to her.

“You work at the newspaper?” Barry questioned. “Uh oh, should we have been—”

“Don't worry, Barry. I'm not in gossip nor do I have any desire to help that particular colleague of mine. He redefines the word asshole,” Iris said. Oliver turned to look at Felicity who rolled her eyes at her friend.

Barry laughed and moved in a little closer to Iris. The look on his face was dopey and wide, and clearly smitten. Oliver wondered, vaguely, if that's what Digg saw when he caught him staring at Felicity.

“Iris is well on her way to being a Pulitzer winner. I just know it.” Felicity practically beamed at her best friend.

“And Lissy is going to be the best-known sports PT around once she finishes with Oliver. Just don't forget who told you that you could do this when you've got access to those tickets on the fifty-yard line.”

Felicity smirked at her friend. She met Oliver’s eyes for a brief moment, her face turning down a little as she stared at him.

“Did you have doubts you could do this?” Oliver asked, a little confused by Iris’ admission.

Felicity started to speak, but Iris cut across her. “More like doubts about working with you, Oliver. I mean, come on wasn't it a little odd at first?”

“Iris,” Felicity's started, her voice a little shaky, “It's not necessary to—”

“Felicity, it's not really a secret that you two dated...is it?”

Oliver took a deep breath and looked around the assembled group, most of whom didn’t look like the information fazed them in the least. Roy threw a smirk in Oliver’s direction, adding in a roguish wink when Oliver caught his eye. Oliver gritted his teeth at the younger man, unconcerned about who else saw.

“Well, it certainly isn’t anymore,” Diggle interjected, a wide grin breaking over his face.

“It’s not a big deal. It was a really long time ago,” Felicity blurted. Oliver watched her eyes darting around their group of friends. She held on to the wine glass in her hand so tightly, Oliver worried that it might break.

Unwilling to let it go, Oliver turned to her, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes slightly narrowed. “So...you really didn’t want to take the job, then?” Oliver heard himself ask but he really didn't need the answer. He knew she'd been less than enthusiastic about it. But he'd given her an out! Why hadn't she taken it? Was it just about her career? Did he matter at all to her beyond the job?

“Excuse me,” Oliver said, shooting one last glance, “I think I'm going to go take your advice and get off my leg for a while.”

* * *

Felicity watched his retreat, a little lost to what that look meant, but knowing it made her feel uneasy. She turned back to the group to see John shaking his head, a slight grin playing around his lips.

“Did I say something wrong?” Iris turned to her friend. “Sorry Lissy. I thought he knew this wasn't a prime assignment for you.”

“Don't worry about it Iris. He did know, he does know.” Felicity smiled at her best friend.

“Don't worry about it, Felicity. His natural state is cranky,” Roy chimed in, bumping his body slightly against hers. “Besides, he's probably still pissed about that Helena chick selling information to the tabloids about him.”

“Roy,” Dig chided, warning clear in his voice.

“Sorry,” Roy muttered before turning another dazzling smile on Felicity. “Anyway, don't sweat it. I’ve known him for a little over a year and I think he’s always been a little grumpy. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Felicity smiled at Roy, but didn’t think he was right.

****  
  


“Need some help cleaning up?”

Felicity looked up from wiping down the marble countertop to see John standing there. He moved to the counter and started to collect beer bottles before Felicity had a chance to reply.

The few remaining people that milled around Oliver’s backyard were his closest of teammates and friends. The night had been perfect for the longest time until Oliver disappeared. It’d been about an hour since anyone saw him, which led most of the partiers to slowly begin their exodus.

“Thank you, John.” Felicity smiled up at him.

“Sure. Hey, you okay with that?” Felicity followed John’s gaze across the backyard to where Roy and Thea were standing far closer than Roy had been with her.

Felicity laughed and turned to John. “More than. I think Roy is just a natural born flirt. Trust me, I’m not disappointed.”

John nodded, his eyes scanning the rest of the backyard and the few remaining stragglers. “You don’t have to clean up, you know? Oliver’s housekeeper will do it.”

Felicity frowned. “It’s not in my nature to leave a mess around. Besides, no one should have to clean up this mess on their own. Not that it’s a lot. You guys are extraordinarily clean for a pro football team.”

John barked out a deep laugh. “That’s because the one time we did have an enormous party here that left this place…well—let’s just say it wasn’t good—Moira Queen laid into all of us.”

“Now that I believe,” Felicity said as she rinsed off the sponge in the bar sink. “Do you know where Oliver went to?”

“No,” John paused in cleaning up bottles and looked fully at her. “But you’ll probably find him in the viewing room.”

“Viewing room?”

“Have you not gotten a tour of this house yet?”

Felicity shook her head. “Just the parts that I needed to know about.”

“Well, Oliver has a viewing room. Really it’s an in-home theatre, but when he’s watching through tapes of previous games and plays, it’s the viewing room. He likes to do that when he’s brooding.”

Felicity stopped cleaning for a moment to look at John, a slight frown on her face. “You think he’s brooding?”

“Oh, I’d pretty much bet on it.”

“Want to fill me in on the why?”

John looked at Felicity fully, his eyes alight with the same type of mischief she’d seen in Oliver’s. No wonder they make such a pair, Felicity thought.

“I have an idea, but I don’t think it’s really for me to say,” John replied, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“He and Helena dated for a while right? Is that it? He seemed pretty upset when I brought it up earlier.”

“Sure,” John’s eyebrows shot up. “Let’s go with that.”

* * *

Felicity didn’t see Oliver until the next day at his scheduled training time. She’d grown accustomed to seeing him every morning at breakfast. Not having his across the breakfast nook from her left her a little off-balance, and she didn’t know how quite to process those feelings. Even though they never really talked about anything, it still set her day off right, and she found she missed it.

When she got to the training room she came to a full stop before quickly moving across the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Felicity demanded, looking over at Oliver who stood on the treadmill, the belt not in motion.

“I thought I’d go for a run,” he replied looking down at the controls with unnecessary concentration.

“No, Oliver. You’re not ready for a run yet. Not for a while yet.”

“I feel fine, Felicity,” he said. Felicity felt her ire start to grow. Patients who thought they knew better than her were a dime a dozen, but this particular attitude rolling off of Oliver set her teeth on edge.

“You may feel that way, Oliver. And I’m really glad you do, but you’re not ready. Knee reconstruction is serious. You need to build up a significant amount of strength before you’re set to run on that knee again. Especially the way you need to. Please, let me do my job. I’ll keep you on the right schedule. I promise.”

Oliver stared down at her, his expression shuttered. “Fine,” he replied curtly stepping off the treadmill with ease.

Felicity watched as he silently made his way to the bike, setting the resistance low and the time for five minutes to warm up.

“Are you alright?” Felicity asked, unsure around him for the first time in weeks.

Oliver didn’t say anything, but nodded curtly, his attention solely focused on the screen of the bike.

“Alright,” Felicity moved away from him, not sure what the sudden shift in attitude meant or why it irritated her.

She took out the resistance bands and ankle weights they would be using for the day. Felicity still had concerns in regards to Oliver’s range of motion, so they’d be working the most on that for the foreseeable future.

“You have an appointment with Dr. Wilson coming up soon, right?” Felicity tried to draw him in conversation again, watching as Oliver made his way from the bike to the mats on the floor.

He nodded again and lowered himself to the mats with a surprising amount of agility.

“Is your knee still bothering you when you fully extend it?”

He shook his head slightly then shrugged.

“Okay, Oliver, what is your problem? Have you gone mute?” Felicity snapped, her patience running a bit thinner than usual.

“No,” he bit out.

“Has something happened?”

“No.”

Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay, fine. We don’t really have to talk to do this, but when I ask you a question, I expect an answer with words, Oliver. I can’t assess what needs to be done if you don’t talk to me.”

“Maybe you should take some of your own advice,” he muttered.

“What does that even mean?”

“Forget it, Felicity. Let’s just do this, alright? I’m not really in the best of moods today.”

“Obviously.”

Felicity knelt beside him on the mat, her hands kneading gently at the area around his knee and lower quadriceps. Her fingers dug gently, but firmly behind his knee feeling for any swollen or tender flesh that could potentially hinder Oliver’s progress.

The silence between them felt different than before. Felicity underestimated how grateful she felt when they first began that Oliver didn’t feel the need to be overly talkative; his singular focus on getting better made it much easier to focus on her job and not how much more attractive he’d become over the past fifteen years.

Every now and again though, Oliver would ask her something—never personal—but she’d grown so used to the random intervals of hearing his voice that now the silence between them felt stifling.

And in the very same instance—charged. Full of the things that she didn’t want to think about. A past that haunted her, and maybe him as well.

The rest of the session was painful, both physically (for Oliver) and mentally (for the both of them.)

“Why don’t you take a break, Oliver?” Felicity insisted as she watched him attempt the half squats she’d assigned. His teeth were clenched so tightly together she was sure he would crack one.

“Oliver, you don’t need to do all one hundred at one time,” she tried again. “Take a break.”

“I’m fine,” he breathed out, sweat rolling down his temples.

“This is absolutely ridiculous, Oliver. Just stop.” She grabbed his arms. He stopped moving and looked up at her, a decidedly unwelcome look crossing his features.

“Unless you want to do more harm than good,” she began, tightening her grip on his biceps. “You need to listen to your body and not do more than it can handle. I really don’t know what you’re trying to prove or what got into you today, but I can honestly say that your stubbornness has never been one of your best qualities. I thought you would’ve grown out of that by now, but I guess some things don’t change.”

Oliver broke her gaze, staring at some point beyond her.

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asked again. “I’m am here to help you, Oliver, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me.”

“Nothing is wrong.” He broke her grasp on him easily and walked slowly to the other side of the room. “I just need a minute, then I’ll finish.”

“No, we’re done for the day.” She followed him, unwilling to let the conversation go. “Something isn’t okay, and Oliver, you don’t have to tell me, but tell someone. You’re not here, and if you want to play football again—”

“I get it, Felicity!” he exclaimed. “I get what I have to do. I get why you’re here. You couldn’t have been any clearer, thanks. And, as you’ve already pointed out, we’re not friends. I don’t need to tell you what’s wrong. You’re an employee, you’re paid to be here.”

Felicity gasped and took a step back. That hurt a lot more than she could’ve anticipated. Even though that’d been her intention—to not let their past interfere with their present—to hear it put so plainly made her heartache. For Oliver’s part, he looked like he desperately wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. Felicity’s face grew splotchy and red before she thinned her lips and pulled herself up to her full height. She barely came up to his chin, but she still managed to look imposing.

“Fine, Mr. Queen. But just so we’re clear, I may just be your employee, but I will not hesitate to tell you when you’re out of line or when you pose a danger to yourself. You may not care about your health, Oliver, but I care about my reputation and I’m not going to let you do something stupid just to serve whatever male ego thing you have going on right now. Tell me what’s wrong, don’t tell me what’s wrong, I don’t give a damn. But you will get better and you will do it my way, or you can find someone else to work with.”

Felicity didn’t wait for a reply as she stormed out of the room.

* * *

“Where’s your house guest?” Diggle asked settling into the deck chair next to Oliver. “She’s way nicer and prettier than you, think she’ll join us for a beer?”

Oliver could see Diggle holding in laughter as he looked over at his friend. The men were each on their second beers, enjoying the weather and the company. The easy friendship between him and Diggle hadn’t started that way. When Oliver first joined The Archers, he was deep into the party scene, courtesy of Tommy and his own newly found fame. Diggle hadn’t been impressed by Oliver in the beginning, but once Oliver finally started to get his life together (after an accident that nearly cost someone their life and his career), Diggle ended up being his closest confidant and his brother.

Oliver couldn’t be more grateful for John Diggle if he tried.

“She’s not here. Don’t know where she went. She yelled at me today,” Oliver replied, bringing his bottle up to his lips for a long pull, finishing the contents of the bottle.

“Mhmm,” Diggle murmured as he picked at the label on the bottle. He waited for Oliver to continue knowing that it took longer than necessary for him to fully wrap his head around what was actually happening.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“It was really only a matter of time.” Diggle’s matter-of-fact tone and unimpressed look sort of made Oliver feel ashamed.

“I called her an employee,” Oliver said, looking at him friend.

Digg laughed heartily, barely dodging the punch that came flying his way.

“It’s not funny, Digg,” Oliver exclaimed. “I really fucked up. I’m just so pissed. Why didn’t she just not take the job if she didn’t want to be here so bad?”

“Why didn’t you ask her that two nights ago?”

“I can’t ask her that.”

“Why?”

Oliver shrugged and set his empty bottle down near the base of his chair before reaching into the cooler between them, pulling out two bottles for each of them. “Because I don’t want to know the answer.”

“Yes you do, Oliver. Sometimes I don’t get you, man.” Diggle shook his head, accepting the bottle from Oliver, popping the top on the edge of his chair.

Oliver hung his head. “I really don’t because if this is just a job and a resumé builder, then that’s it. It’s really over, there’s really nothing left between us. If she made this decision without thinking about me specifically, then—what’s left?”

“And what if that isn’t it at all?”

“Then that’s even worse, right?” Oliver snapped the lid of his beer, tossing it into the cooler. “Because if it is personal then I really don’t know what to do.”

“You know, so much of this could be solved if you just talk to her. Talk to her like the woman you love and not like you’ve been doing.” Digg’s suggestion couldn’t have been more reasonable, but Oliver didn’t know how to directly confront fifteen years worth of questions.

“I don’t know her anymore, Digg. I used to know exactly how she was going to react to certain things. I used to know her so well and now I live with a near stranger.” Oliver tapped the base of his bottle against the wooden chair, the sound filling the stillness of the night.

“Again,” Diggle started, “I think you’re partially to blame for that.”

“There isn't a good solution to this. Not at least one that makes any sense to me.”

Diggle sighed and turned to look out over Oliver’s yard. “You're an idiot, man.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

Iris' front door swung open before Felicity's hand could make contact. Iris held a bottle of wine in one hand, and two glasses hanging precariously in the other.

“There's also ice cream on the coffee table because I've been a terrible friend.”

Felicity rolled her eyes and took the wine glasses from Iris, kicking the front door shut with one foot. “You're not a terrible friend, Iris. You're my best friend. That best modifier holds all the meanings of best, not just one.”

“You sweet talker you.” Iris winked. “But seriously, Fe, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that you didn't tell people about you and Oliver, though I should've guessed, and I'm sorry if I made things even more awkward.”

“Seriously Iris, no apologies,” Felicity said as she plopped down on the couch beside Iris. “Please. Oliver is a grownup, mostly. He chose to act like an ass. He chose to make it very clear that I'm an employee. He chose to make things weird. Not you.”

Iris's mouth fell open a bit as she set to opening the wine. “What's gotten into you?”

Felicity tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there wasn't an ounce of blaming yourself in any of that. Not,” Iris put up a hand, “that there's any reason to, but, I've just never—you've never been this...sure about anything where Oliver is concerned.”

“Well, friend, you were right.”

“I usually am,” Iris replied, handing her a very full glass of Malbec. “But can you be a little more specific?”

“This is a career changer, Iris. I didn't—I didn't want to—no, I didn't let myself think about that because I just got caught up in the whirlwind of the Queen family all over again. I let my stupid insecurities about them and him take over and make me forget that I'm good at this. Really good. And I just feel like this could change a lot of things for me.”

“I'm so proud of you, Fe.”

Felicity didn't know why, but the sentiment made her blush, which made Iris giggle lightly.

“Okay, no more Oliver Queen for the night. I'm officially declaring this an Oliver-Queen-free-zone.”

They clinked glasses and each took a long sip. The spice and depth of the wine warming the two women.

“How's your dad?”

Felicity grimaced. “Not...great. I'm going over there Sunday for dinner. Mom said you're expected to be there.”

Iris nodded and waited for her friend to continue.

“I'm scared of what could happen to him, Iris. I'm scared for my mom, Laurel and Sara and me. We're...an unusual family, but it works. Mostly. And it's just hard to see him so sick. One more year, one more stupid year and he could've been in remission. It's just...god I want to say not fair, but that's stupid, of course, it's not fair, life's not fair.”

“I know. When's his chemo done?”

“The doctor said this is the last round, so end of the week. Hence the Sunday dinner.”

“Ah. Got you.” Iris leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of wine, topping off each of their glasses. “By the way, should I bring an emergency dinner or...”

“Oh, mom's ordering from Tastes. I told her if I'm coming to dinner, I'd rather not end up with food poisoning.”

Felicity and Iris sat for another few hours, polishing off another bottle of wine before Felicity started to tease Iris about Barry Allen.

“Nope, no boys,” Iris laughed while wagging a finger at Felicity. “Boy free zone, remember?”

“No, I don't remember saying we wouldn't talk about your boy issues. He's adorable. Not your usual type, though that could be a good thing.”

Iris rolled her eyes and jabbed her spoon into the partially melted carton of mint chip. “This is kind of gross after the wine.”

Felicity sighed. “Fine, I'll let it slide for now. But after your date with him this weekend, I expect details.”

Iris's mouth dropped open. “How did you...?”

“He texted while you went for more wine.”

* * *

Oliver slowly made his way down the stairs the next morning, a slow, dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. He and Diggle had stayed up far too late and had one too many beers. He’d sent Diggle home in a cab around three in the morning. Oliver had hoped to stay up long enough to hear Felicity come back, but to his knowledge, she hadn’t returned. He looked down at his cell to see if he had any missed calls or texts.

“Mr. Queen?”

“Good morning, Elena,” Oliver nodded to his housekeeper. He'd asked her time and again to call him Oliver, but she'd politely declined each time.

“You received a phone call from Dr. Smoak this morning. She said she wouldn't be back until this afternoon. She said you can call her if that'll be a problem.”

“Oh,” Oliver replied dumbly. “Thank you, Elena.”

_She couldn't even be bothered to call or text me directly. Way to fuck it up, Oliver._

He moved easily around the kitchen before sitting down at the breakfast nook for his usual morning meal. He deeply missed Felicity sitting across from him. It’d been two days since he’d had breakfast with her, and those two days somehow felt more strained than fifteen years of silence.

He set his cell on the counter and opened a text to Diggle, but decided to just call him instead. Diggle constantly chastised him about his texting style saying if he wanted to text with a teenager, he’d text his nephew A.J.

“How are you awake, man?” Diggle’s voice rumbled across the line.

Oliver laughed. “Like you were asleep. I bet you’re leaving the gym.”

“I am, but I’m also not a lightweight.”

“You took a cab home last night.”

“Yeah, because I’m not reckless or wanting to be on TMZ.”

“Fair point,” Oliver laughed. “What are you doing today? Seems my morning has opened up.”

“You really don’t pay attention to anyone but yourself, do you?” Diggle asked, and even though there was no malice in his tone, it still hit Oliver harder than intended.

“Uh…”

“Lyla is back from her assignment. I told you this last night.”

“Right.” Oliver shook his head. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it Oliver. I take it your one-and-only didn’t come back last night?”

Oliver sighed. “Can you please not say that?”

“What?”

“My one-and-only,” Oliver mimicked Diggle. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“I’m just repeating what you said.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

“So…she didn’t come back yet?”

“No,” Oliver let out a frustrated sound. He heard Diggle chuckling lightly at him. “This isn’t funny Digg. She left a message with Elena that she wouldn’t be back until this afternoon. She didn’t even bother to text me. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“Well, here’s a radical idea—you could try apologizing, then talking to her,” Diggle’s tone held no humor. “I’m tired of sounding like a broken record, man. Just do something. Either tell her you want to get to know her, or leave her alone and just have her be your physical therapist. I’m kind of tired of talking to you about this, not because I don’t care, Oliver, because it’s not like you to do nothing. Especially where a woman is concerned.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not just any woman, Digg.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “If she’s as special as you’re making her out to be, then you should actually want to do something about it instead of just hemming and hawing.”

“Hemming and hawing?” Oliver snickered.

“My grandmother used to say that, don’t make fun,” replied Diggle. “Seriously, just—do something—anything, but a word of advice? The first thing you should do is apologize.”

****  
  


* * *

Felicity walked through the door from the garage, pulling it gently behind her. Never again would she let Iris talk them into a third bottle of wine.

_Yeah right, Smoak. You have no willpower where Iris is concerned._

Felicity smirked at her own inner monologue, her head finally feeling like it was free of the bass drum that had taken up residence there.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice rang out from the nook beside the door.

“Oh God!” she jumped. “Oliver! Why are you lurking in the shadows?”

“I wasn’t really lurking.” He smiled at her and it set her teeth on edge. Something must have shown in his face because he dropped the grin, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, can you lurk in your own home?” 

Felicity rolled her eyes as she toed off her shoes, bending down to pick them up. “Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll meet you in the gym.”

“Actually,” Oliver stepped into her path, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. She moved back from his grasp and saw him wince. “I was hoping that we could…talk.”

“Talk?”

Oliver nodded, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He looked every bit the eighteen-year-old guy she’d fallen in love with and it momentarily threw her off balance. He turned, looking over his shoulder to see if she’d follow. He led her through the mudroom and kitchen to the patio at the back of the house. It was another perfect day, the sun just starting to set, turning the sky into a canvas of purples and pinks and muted yellows.

He sat in the chair he’d occupied the night before and motioned for her to take the other.

“Do you want something to drink? A glass of wine?”

Her stomach roiled. “No. Thank you.”

“Sure,” he clasped his hands together and looked out over his backyard.

They sat in silence for a little bit, the distant sounds of birds and the rustling wind their only soundtrack.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver spoke first, not turning to look at her. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you. You’re not just an employee, Felicity, but I was—this is hard for me, too. And I didn’t really realize you didn’t want to take this job, I mean, you declined my offer to get you out of this and I just thought that maybe…maybe you were here because you cared about me in some way. Not just about your job as a therapist or making a name for yourself.” Felicity heard the catch in Oliver’s voice but didn’t know how to process it. Oliver had been loving and sincere all those years ago, but he’d still been very reluctant in the emotions department. He still didn’t look at he—just kept staring out across his yard.

Felicity exhaled and sat back heavily against the chair. “It’s—”

What could she say? Yes, this was a job, but she could’ve taken Oliver’s out. Maybe she should’ve. It would be infinitely better than this moment where she felt like she was stuck. How could she possibly answer this?

“I know that’s not really a fair way to put it, but you said we weren’t friends, and you’re right. We’re not friends. Not anymore, but I’d like that. I’d really like us to be.”

Oliver finally turned to look at her and she felt heavy, like a weight had settled onto her chest. She looked away almost instantly.

“Oliver, I’m—it’s okay to not be—”

“Just listen, alright?” Oliver reached over for her left hand and held it between the two of his. She simply couldn’t pull away from his touch this time. “I know this is really fucking awkward, okay? My parents, as usual, were only out for what they wanted, and I let them because it was so great to see you. I don’t want you to be some stranger anymore, Felicity. You were my best friend once.”

“Fifteen years ago, Oliver. We’re not the same people anymore,” Felicity fought against the tears that were threatening to spill. Her memories of eighteen-year-old Oliver didn’t include this level of earnestness.

“I know that. Trust me, I remember that almost every day. I want to get to know you. I mean, I didn’t even know your mom got remarried or that your dad is sick or why you don’t call him your step-dad. The things I know, anyone could know about you.”

“Oliver…” she wanted to plead with him not to do this. She wanted to stand and run as far as she could, back to Iris’ or her parents' house, or simply anywhere he wasn’t, because she didn’t think herself capable of letting him in just a little. The last time she did…and then it ended, and she barely made it through.

She didn’t know if she could survive that again.

“Look,” Oliver squeezed her hand tighter. “We can keep the past where it is. As you said, it was a long time ago,” he stopped a took a deep breath, letting it out in a fast hiss of air. “But, I—I just want to know you is all. Again. If you’ll let me.”

Felicity looked over at him, his face was open and clear, his eyes pleading with her. “Alright,” she heard herself say. “I think I can manage to do that.”

****  



	3. Postoperative Weeks 9-12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pools and pining, pasta and interrogation, threats and awkward family dinners.

“This is ridiculous. I feel ridiculous, Felicity.”

“Lean into that feeling, Oliver.”

He paused his kicking legs to send a glare her way. She responded by splashing him in the face with pool water.

Oliver’s recovery took a major turn the week prior. His range of motion steadily improved and his quad strength was finally where it needed to be at this point in his recovery. He still wore his brace around the house, but his overall ease on his leg had returned enough that Felicity told him that a morning session in the pool would do him good.

When she’d suggested it, Oliver’s mind immediately started to conjure images of her in a barely-there bikini. He’d seen her in bathing suits when they were much younger, but Felicity was different now—not just body-wise, but almost everything about her seemed different to him. She wasn’t as free with her thoughts and emotions, although sometimes he was able to coax her into a good ramble that could make her blush, and made Oliver want to check if that blush still went all the way down her chest and stomach, leaving brights spots of color.

When they were younger, summers were often spent by the pool of the Queen mansion. Oliver let the memories of her bright pink bikini—a favorite of his that she only wore when it was the two of them—take over for a moment. He ached to feel her skin beneath his fingertips again, to find out if she was still hypersensitive on the backs of her knees or if she still giggled when he kissed the spot between her neck and shoulder.

Yeah, he had it bad.

“No sympathy from you, huh?” Oliver grinned at her. “You're a tyrant.” He took particular delight at the smile she directed toward him.

“Don't act like you don't love it.”

Oliver’s eyes wandered over to where she sat at the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water. When she'd come down the stairs in her bathing suit—a modest, navy blue one-piece—his breath had caught and a pleasant feeling settled low in his stomach. Somehow, even though she wasn’t tall, her legs appeared to go on and on. And he would not let himself entertain the vision of her ass in the tight fabric. He watched her walk down the staircase, apparently unaware of the blow she'd just dealt him.

The Felicity of old wore big, baggy cover-ups whenever she’d attended one of the many raucous Queen pool parties. She never stood out, always blended in, at least to everyone but him. An acute awareness of Felicity seemed to be a perennial problem that showed no signs of going away.

He watched her face light up as she told him about the day, her arms gesticulating wildly, a full, real smile across her face like he hadn’t seen in far too long.

Watching her now made him want things. A lot of things. Their tenuous friendship “thing” worked, at least for now. They did not delve into the depths of their past, though on more than one occasion (like that morning’s breakfast) he’d wanted so badly to ask her why. What had he done? Did she really just stop loving him? If she did, could she tell him how to do it?

_Digg would laugh his ass off at you right now, Queen._

Oliver shook himself from his reverie and concentrated on the slow, steady movements of his legs through the water.

“It was too nice of a day to stay inside,” Felicity said. She head tipped back toward the sky, inhaling deeply.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed, trying to ignore the long slope of her neck, the expanse of her collarbone, and the minuscule hint of cleavage. He moved his gaze back to the side of the pool, concentrating on his task, rather than how good Felicity looked in her swimsuit.

“How do you feel? Other than ridiculous I mean?”

“Alright. Really good actually, just you know...” He sighed and kept his gaze ahead of him as he heard the splash of water beside him. Suddenly, chilly fingers were on his left bicep commanding his attention.

“Stand up,” she directed.

Oliver stopped kicking his legs and brought them under him, standing in the shallow end of the pool. He towered over her tiny figure. When he looked down, he wished he hadn't; her suit clung to her form even more than before. He watched beads of water drip down her upper arms and chest. He wanted so desperately to follow the one at the top of her cleavage.

“...to hip height.”

“What?”

“Are you alright?” Felicity craned her head back to look up into his face. “You've been...in and out all morning.” She waved a hand to match her words. “What has you so distracted?”

He looked down into her face in wonder. Was she teasing him? He searched her eyes and expression but saw nothing more than concern and mild worry.

“No,” he stepped away just slightly. “I'm not distracted. I'm just a little...” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, what am I doing now?”

“Knee raises to hip height,” Felicity replied. He swore he heard little catch in her voice, but didn't know what to attribute it to, or maybe he'd imagined it.

_Wouldn't be the first time, Queen._

They left the pool once Oliver completed his assigned knee raises. Again, he valiantly attempted to look elsewhere as she dried off, but proved too weak to resist the view.

“Elena made some of her famous double chocolate brownies last night,” he didn’t know what made him blurt that out but continued on anyway. “We could have a couple after lunch.”

“You really expect me to believe you eat brownies with a body like that?”

Oliver's eyes grew wide as he watched her face flood with color.

“I mean,” she hurried on, “you're a top athlete and I know you're probably concerned with what you put in your body. I mean I've noticed—I mean not noticed!”

Oliver watched Felicity grip her towel, her knuckles turning white against the dark red cloth. Oliver did his best to school his gleeful expression, far too happy at a non-admission that she liked to look at his body.

“Yeah, well, Elena's brownies are worth the extra calories. Trust me. So—lunch?”

Oliver took in how Felicity's shoulders sagged and her hands let go of the death grip on the towel. “Uh, I can't.”

“Oh.” Oliver looked down at the deck trying valiantly not to let his disappointment break across his face. “Okay, well, they're there if you want—”

“It's not that I don't want to have lunch with you.” She bit her lip, pushing a damp piece of hair behind her ear. “I promised Iris I'd meet her in town for lunch today.”

“Oh,” he said again. Happier to know that she wasn’t simply blowing him off. He’d come to look forward to their morning and mid-day meals together. _You’re truly pathetic, Queen._

“You could come along if you'd like.” Felicity shook her head. “You probably wouldn't like that, never mind, I—”

“I'd love to have lunch with you and Iris.”

Oliver almost laughed at her wide-eyed expression. If he were a better man, he’d back out of the invitation that somehow managed to get by her—but in this case, he had no inclination to be a better man.

“Great,” she replied dimly.

* * *

“Stop laughing Iris,” Felicity spat into the phone as she roamed around her temporary bedroom, attempting to find the match to her favorite wedges.

Iris' laughter continued to ring out over the line, full and buoyant.

“I'm not laughing at you, Fe. I'm laughing at the situation.”

“You're most definitely laughing at me. Some best friend you are.”

Iris burst into peels of laughter again and Felicity cursed her lightly on the other end.

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Whew.” Iris took a deep breath and continued. “I'm just—I called this you know? Didn't I? I just knew you two would be headed back toward the great amalgamation that you once were.”

“The great amalgamation?”

“Too much? It's on my word of the day calendar that Barry got me.”

“Ooh, and how is Mr. Allen?”

“Nope, no dice, Smoak, you're not changing the subject.”

Felicity sighed and sat at the edge of her bed. Iris reacted in a similar way a few weeks back when Felicity told her about the talk she'd had with Oliver.

“You're both idiots,” Iris had said, her tone light and loving. “Felicity, you know there's probably a reason you don't want to explore why you're doing this. Because yes, the Queens are a powerful family, and yes, saying no would've made your life hard, but it wouldn't have been the first time. When you're actually ready to confront all this stuff, I'll be here with a bottle of wine, ready to listen.”

Felicity's face grew warm as her mind wandered back to him in the pool. The Oliver of high school was hot, but he had nothing on professional football player Oliver. ‘Professional Football Player Oliver’ was well-muscled and cut, his body streamlined in a way that made her body ache if she thought about it too long. When he’d stepped back from her earlier in the pool, she’d barely contained the impulse to run her hands across his glistening, chiseled abs.

_Not good, so not good._

“It just came tripping out of my mouth,” Felicity groaned, lying back on the bed. “And then he was saying yes before I could backpedal. The look on his face when I said no to lunch...”

“Oh Fe,” Iris sighed. “It's alright. One of these days it's going to hit you and I, personally, can't wait.”

“What’s going to hit me?”

“Nothing. So, are you and hottie going to pick me up, or should I meet you there?”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “We'll come to pick you up.”

**   
  
  
  
**

“Are you sure Iris is okay with this?” Oliver asked again, squirming in the passenger seat of Felicity's mini. He looked absurd beside her, bigger than any previous passenger she’d had. She barely held in a snicker as she watched him get in the car ignoring the glare he sent her way; it just made her smile wider.

“For the third time, yes, Oliver. She's actually pretty excited about it.”

“Iris West is excited about me invading your lunch?”

“You're not invading anything, you were invited. And Iris likes you.”

She could feel him staring at the side of her face. She shrugged. “She thinks you're hot.”

Oliver snickered and shook his head. “I’m sure she has some other adjectives for me as well.”

Felicity spared a glance at him; he was propped half against the door to face her, his hands moving restlessly over his thighs.

“Are you afraid of Iris?”

“I think I would be an idiot not to be.”

Felicity laughed, a true, full laugh that brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s not that funny,” Oliver muttered which did nothing but make Felicity laugh more.

They pulled up in front of the Starling City Herald building, a monolith of chrome and glass in the middle of the city. Iris stood out front, chatting on the phone, a smile lighting up her face. She waved and started to walk toward Felicity’s car, her long, tan trench coat flapping behind her.

Oliver started to open the door to get out and let her have the front seat when Iris shook her head at him and motioned to the back.

She ended her call just before sliding into the backseat. “Fe, you look great. Ollie, good to see you again.”

“Good to see you again, too Iris.” Oliver turned and smiled at her before facing the front again.

“You know, Fe,” Iris spoke, leaning forward between the seats, her face alight with mischief. “I wonder what Angelo is going to say about you bringing the quarterback for the Starling Archers into his restaurant.”

Felicity noticeably winced. She spared a quick glance at Oliver, noting the look of confusion as he gazed between the two women.

“Damn,” Felicity said. “Do you want to go someplace else?”

Iris laughed. “Nope, this is going to be a lot of fun.”

**   
  
**

“You’ve broken my heart today, Felicity. Don’t I always feed you well when you come here? You bring me in this?”

Felicity’s face was aflame as she looked between Angelo and Oliver and a barely-keeping-it-together Iris. Angelo’s was a little place close to the marina that served the best Sicilian food she ever had. Granted, neither she nor Iris had ever been to Sicily, but they were willing to take Angelo’s word for it. Angelo had been a patient of hers a few years back, and after mentioning his restaurant to her, it became a twice-monthly staple for her and Iris. 

Angelo was a huge fan of the Gotham City Knights. (Once, he’d spent an entire meal sitting with Iris and Felicity talking about what an accomplished QB Bruce Wayne was. ‘Especially compared to that hack Oliver Queen.’) His entire establishment was dedicated to the Knights, and he still wasn’t over the massive Super Bowl upset from two years ago when the Starling Archers beat them 21-17.

“I’m sorry, Angelo. This is my,” Felicity paused briefly, “…friend, Oliver. Oliver, this is Angelo, he makes the best _Cassatelle alla Trapanese_ in Starling City.”

“Angelo,” Oliver held out his hand and the man begrudgingly took it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Eh,” Angelo remarked turning back toward the kitchen. “Sit wherever, I’ll bring you bread.”

Iris slid into their usual booth, her mirth bubbling over. “Poor Ollie.”

Felicity saw Oliver’s face turning a little pink. Whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t quite determine.

Iris placed a hand in the middle of the menu he was browsing, lowering it down to the table.

“We never order off the menu here,” she said, moving further back into the booth. “Although, Angelo might make you do it.”

Felicity elbowed Iris’ arm, drawing her attention away from Oliver. “We should’ve gone somewhere else,” Felicity whispered to her friend. She shot a look at Oliver who had his head down, inspecting the menu more closely than it required.

“And miss out on my fried, cheesy, chocolatey dough? I think not, Fe. Oliver can take it.” Iris moved her head away from her friend and stared at Oliver. “Can’t you, Ollie?”

“Bread and olives for my two favorite ladies,” Angelo interrupted as he placed the items in the middle of the table.

He turned to Oliver, a gruff expression still covering his face. “I’m sorry to hear about your knee,” he said. “I may not like your team, I’ll probably never like your team, but I hope you come back. The game isn’t as fun when the best don’t play the best, ya know?” Angelo finished by offering his hand to Oliver.

“Thank you,” Oliver nodded and took the man’s offered hand.

“He’ll be good as new as soon as Felicity’s done with him,” Iris told the man proudly. “You know our girl is a miracle worker.”

“Oh, so that’s how you know this one?” Angelo shook his thumb in Oliver’s direction. “I separated my shoulder some years back trying to keep up with my grandsons,” He told Oliver. “I went to Starling General and they gave me this one,” he motioned to Felicity. “…As my therapist. Best weeks of my life.”

Oliver turned in Felicity’s direction and smiled. “I bet it was.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open. No way was Oliver Queen flirting with her—right?

Angelo nodded and took the menu from his hand. “I’ll get you something good.” He patted Oliver’s shoulder with a heavy hand before leaving the table.

“Oh, Ollie. You’ll make a fan out of him yet,” Iris cooed.

Oliver rolled his eyes and leaned into the table. “How are things at the newspaper?”

“Still good from the last time you asked, Oliver.”

“Sorry,” he visibly winced

Iris shook her head, picking up a piece of warm rosemary bread from the basket. “No need to apologize. Just, find another topic. I’m under a deadline and I always get a little—”

“Hostile,” Felicity interjected.

“Anxious,” Iris responded, bumping Felicity’s shoulder. “This is going to be a big story if it all comes together. Emphasis on if.”

Oliver held up his hands. “So noted.”

They sat for a few moments in silence. It wasn’t tense, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. They’d known each other so well at one point, that it had been so easy. Never strained.

“How’s Barry?” Felicity turned to her friend. She picked up and olive and popped it into her mouth, smiling as the salty and slightly bitter taste broke over her tongue.

“He’s fine,” Iris said, avoiding eye contact with Felicity.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Iris nodded. “I really do. It’s so stupid. I should know better than to get involved with a professional athlete.”

“Hey,” Oliver interjected from across the table. “What’s wrong with professional athletes?”

The matching incredulous looks from Felicity and Iris had him looking down at the wood table, tracing patterns left there by previous occupants.

“They’re not amongst the most faithful of companions, Ollie.” Her tone was unmistakably severe. Felicity looked over at her friend, a little wary of what could possibly come next.

“Some aren’t, but Barry isn’t like that. Barry’s a really excellent guy. You shouldn’t make any snap judgments about him just yet.”

Iris sat back and crossed her arms, staring frankly at him. “Hmm. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is faithfulness something that can be attributed to you now?”

Felicity placed a hand on Iris’ arm. “I don’t think this is—”

Angelo coming out of the kitchen with their meals halted Felicity’s words. They collectively thanked Angelo for the food before turning back to the conversation.

“It’s alright, Felicity.” Oliver nodded to her. “What do you mean, Iris?”

Iris smirked, twirling her fork in her plate of _pasta alla norma_. “It’s no secret Ollie that you jumped from girl to girl to girl for years. I work at the newspaper, remember? And yes, while that particular colleague of mine is an asshole, he doesn’t get gossip wrong.”

Felicity’s stomach was in knots. She knew that Oliver dated. Of course, she knew that she would’ve had to be stranded on a desert island in order to have missed the many women Oliver Queen went through. She didn’t want to hear about them, and she especially didn’t want to examine why the mention of these women felt like a stab through the heart.

“I’m not all that proud of my past, Iris,” Oliver stated. “Yes, I’ve done some things that I would rather forget about, but I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Hmm. There was a definite shift in your pattern—five years ago or so, I think. What happened?”

“Iris,” Felicity spoke up, a manic smile on her face. “This is supposed to be a friendly lunch, not the Spanish Inquisition.”

Iris held up a hand and turned to Oliver. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. I should’ve known lunch with a reporter might be invasive.”

“Touché,” she smiled at him. “Well, feel free to ask me any questions you'd like. I have a feeling that I'm going to be getting an earful from Fe soon enough.”

“Nothing comes to mind now, but can I get a rain check on that offer?”

They passed the rest of lunch in a much more conciliatory manner, keeping the topics light and geared more towards their every day and less towards the things that lurked in depths of their past.

* * *

On the drive back to Oliver's house, Felicity attempted to apologize, but he stopped her.

“There's nothing to apologize for, Felicity.”

“Still it was lunch. You shouldn't have to feel like you were on trial for anything.”

“I didn't,” he replied. She scoffed at him. “Honestly, yeah some of my past sucks, but it was public knowledge. If I'd been a better man, I would've done things differently, but I wasn't.”

Oliver stared at her profile, taking in the way she toyed with her bottom lip, a tell of hers from their past when she’d been teeming with questions.

“Just ask, Felicity.”

She shook her head, her hands flexing on the steering wheel. Oliver sighed and turned his attention back to the passing scenery. So much of his life spent in Starling and he never really took the time to see it, really see it.

Felicity pulled back into the driveway of his home, and into a space beside one of his parents' cars.

He slumped heavily in his seat. “I don't know why they don't call first.”

“Moira Queen call to see if her son could receive her?” She teased.

“Cute,” he opened the door and carefully levered himself out of it. “Next time we go someplace and you insist on driving, we're taking a normal-sized car.”

Felicity ignored him as she locked her car, making her way up the drive behind him.

“What's going on back there?” Oliver asked over his shoulder. Felicity's eyes were fixed on his lower half. He knew she was checking his stride, but he couldn't help teasing her. “If you wanted to check me out, Felicity, all you had to do was ask.”

She gave him a withering look that had him burst into laughter. The interior garage door swung open before he could reach the knob.

“Oliver, sweetheart.” Moira leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Felicity. You look lovely. Where are you two coming from?”

“Hello mom, how are you? That's great. Could we maybe get inside before you give us the third degree?”

Moira set her lips, coking her head to the side. “Sarcasm is unbecoming darling.”

“So noted.” he moved slowly around her and into his kitchen where his father sat at the nook, Starling City Herald in hand. “Dad.”

Robert nodded to his son. “You're looking well, Oliver. Hello Felicity.”

Felicity nodded curtly toward his father before turning toward him. “Thanks for coming to lunch. And I’m sorry about—ya know. I’ll leave you to have some time with your parents.”

She didn't wait for a reply as she beat a hasty retreat from the room. Oliver turned to look at his father. Robert Queen looked utterly unruffled by Felicity's less than warm reception.

“Did you invite Felicity to dinner this weekend?” Moira asked from behind him.

“No,” he shook his head. “I forgot all about it. What's with all the dinners and trips to my house without letting me know? I'm fine you know, I'm getting better, I'm doing better— maybe even a little ahead of schedule according to Felicity. We're fine.”

“Yes, we know that. Can't we be concerned parents?” Moira asked.

_There's a first time for everything_. He shook himself free of the lingering resentment that sometimes felt utterly misplaced.

“I actually came by to talk with Felicity,” Robert said as he folded the paper setting it aside on the counter. “I suppose I'll go find her since she flitted off in a hurry.”

“She’s probably in the gym,” Oliver stated. He watched his father leave the room, his mother’s hand patting his elbow lightly.

* * *

Felicity moved around the training room with no real purpose. The mats and equipment were cleaned, weights put away, everything in its place—but she still felt the need to do something. She tried to ignore the fact that her restlessness coincided with an appearance from Robert Queen.

“You've done an excellent job with Oliver so far,” Robert’s voice rang around her, making her jump slightly.

Felicity gritted her teeth and turned toward him. She said nothing as she watched him look around the gym.

“You should say thank you when someone pays you a compliment.”

“I would, but I don’t think you’ve actually come here to pay me a compliment, Dr. Queen.”

He held up a hand. “I’m not here to fight with you either, Felicity. I’m genuinely impressed with how far you’ve come.”

Felicity stared at him, not giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

Robert continued on. “I know I didn’t approve of you and my son, and part of me still doesn’t, but it’s his life, not mine. You have to understand Felicity, I only ever wanted the best for Oliver. You two were too young to be so serious. So yes, I was never very welcoming of you, I don’t apologize for that. Oliver wouldn’t be where he is today if he’d hung on to some silly childhood romance.”

“Is there a point to all of this?”

Robert shrugged; the movement looked out of place on his body. “I guess I just wanted to say thank you for what you’ve done for Oliver. You didn’t have to.”

“Right,” Felicity bit out derisively. “As if you wouldn’t have made my life miserable if I’d said no. I haven’t forgotten how you operate Dr. Queen. You threatened me years ago, but I actually have something to lose this time. Of course, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always had a choice,” Robert returned. “And I’m glad you made the right one.”

“Can you please leave?” Felicity asked, her voice breaking just a little. “I really don’t understand your reasoning for being here. I’m not going to say thank you for your backhanded praise of my work. I know what I’m capable of. I don’t need your snide pat on the back.”

“Did you ever tell Oliver about that day?”

Felicity stumbled back at the question. She clenched her jaw and pulled herself up to her full height. “No.”

Robert nodded, his gaze bearing down on her, making her feel heavy. “I think he found out some other way.”

“What a surprise, given your discretion,” Felicity spat.

Robert raised an eyebrow and contemplated her. “You’re certainly not the same scared girl from years past. You should keep in mind that Oliver’s not all that different than he was in high school. Just look at some of his…indiscretions over the past. He and I are not so different, Felicity. You’d do well to keep that in mind.” Robert stood and made his way back to the door. “Moira wants you to attend dinner at the house this Sunday. I hope you’ll be able to make it.”

Felicity slumped against the side of the chest fly machine, her whole body vibrating in anger. What was the point of even confronting her, bringing up the past she tried so hard to forget? Catching Robert Queen with his pants down, literally, was among the memories she strived to forget—forever. She would never forget his warning to her, the threats he leveled against her if she ever told anyone what she saw. She’d never forget the way he’d casually helped break her heart.

Keeping Robert Queen’s secret took a toll on her relationship with Oliver. She hurt every time she looked at him after finding what kind of man Robert Queen really was.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice rang out from the door. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, wallowing in the feelings that Robert Queen was so capable of bringing to the fore of her mind. She turned her back from the door, a hand coming up to her face to wipe away a couple of stray tears.

“Are you alright?” his voice was closer than before. She didn’t turn around right away, taking a couple of cleansing breaths before she nodded.

“No, you’re not. What did he say to you? Don’t say—”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing. Don’t say nothing, Felicity. What happened? Did my dad—did he say something to you or—”

“No, Oliver,” she turned to him now, more composed than before. “No. It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired is all.”

“Why won’t you tell me, Felicity?”

Felicity gave him her best smile. “Because, Oliver, nothing happened, alright?” She moved closer to him, fighting to keep a smile on her face. “So, do you want to go for a bike ride outside this afternoon? We’ll avoid the hills, but I think it’d be great for you to—”

“No, what I want is for you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Felicity threw up her hands. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong, Oliver. At all.”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. He cursed lightly, turning away from her. “Look, Felicity, I know my father is—well, I just know that not everything’s what it seems with him. You don’t need to hold anything back on that front, okay?”

Felicity nodded, but her stomach ached. Oliver might think he knew about what kind of man Robert Queen was, but she doubted he knew the extent of it. “Okay.”

Oliver sighed and dropped his head down. “I wish you’d trust me the way you used to.” He stared at her for a beat before turning and leaving the room.

* * *

**   
  
**

“You should’ve told him,” Iris tapped Felicity on the knee with the base of her wine glass. “You two are trying this ‘friend’ thing again. You should actually try to trust him.”

Felicity gaped at Iris. “What? And what’s with the air quotes around friend. We’re trying to be friends. We are friends. Now I’ve said friends too many times.”

A couple of days after the confrontation with Robert then Oliver in the gym, Felicity managed to escape the constant sad looks on Oliver’s face and retreat to Iris’. Every time Oliver looked at her, there was hurt etched in his features. It made her hurt and brought up the way she’d felt before—the first time she’d kept something so big from him.

“Mhmm,” Iris sighed. “Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, you should’ve told him because this is eating away at you. Again.”

“I can’t tell Oliver that his father is a lecherous cheat.”

“You told me.”

“Who were you going to tell?”

Iris shrugged. “No one then, but now…I did grow up to be quite a fine journalist. Can you imagine that scandalous newspaper headline?”

“I don’t know how scandalous it would be. Others had to know. Moira had to know.”

“You actually think Moira Queen would’ve tolerated that?”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of Syrah. “Regardless, I can’t be the one to shake his faith in his father, Iris.”

“It sounds like it’s already been shaken.”

“Ugh,” Felicity groaned and leaned back against the couch. “And now I have to go to dinner at the Queen home.”

“Ooh, dinner with the future in-laws,” Iris cooed. “You’ll have to give me pointers about how to manage for my own future in-laws.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at her best friend. “Tell me something good. Something that doesn’t have anything to do with the Queen family.”

“I found the last source for my story. And what’s better is she has documented evidence of the case. I’m—God Fe, this could actually be it. This could make my career.”

Felicity squealed and wrapped her free arm around Iris’ shoulders. “I never doubted you. I’m so happy for you, Iris.”

“Thanks…and…Barry and I are going out on a date tomorrow.”

Felicity threw up a fist making them both laugh. “Yes. Tell me everything. All the details. And what are you going to wear?”

* * *

“You didn’t have to do this, you know? I would’ve told my parents that you were busy,” Oliver said, sparing a quick glance at Felicity in his passenger’s seat.

That weekend found Felicity and Oliver making their way to the Queen mansion for the dinner Moira just wouldn’t let go off. Oliver tried to find out why his mother wanted so desperately to get Felicity over to his family home, and for them to have a “family dinner” as if it were a regular occurrence. They hadn’t had family dinners in years. Certainly not since Thea moved away, and even before that, the occasions were few and far between.

Oliver insisted on driving them, not wanting to squeeze himself into Felicity’s mini again. She’d rolled her eyes at him, but complied.

“I think that would just be delaying the inevitable,” Felicity replied. He watched her fidget with the hem of her dress, amazed that she still held on to that one nervous habit. He hadn’t seen her this unsure since she came back into his life. It hurt him deeply in a way he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt Felicity’s eyes on him, but kept his eyes on the road, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“What for, Oliver?”

“For this, I just—I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable. You just started talking to me again.”

Felicity laughed a little. “I’m not going to stop talking to you just because we’re having dinner at your parents.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Oliver said as he pulled into the driveway of his parent’s home. He looked up at the imposing building, feeling the weight of all the years of living in that house in the perpetual shadow of that grandness he wanted nothing to do with. There were plenty of good memories there, and all the best ones happened with the woman who currently sat beside him.

He felt the change come over her without even having to see it. Felicity’s hands stilled in her lap, saw her sit up a little straighter. It felt like she was pulling away from him.

He sighed as he parked, turning to look at Felicity. “We can go back to my house. Order some Thai take out. Regardless of what you may think, I don’t always give into my parents’ wishes.”

A smile broke over Felicity’s face, but he doubted its genuineness. “It’ll be fine. It’s just dinner, right?”

“Yeah.”

**   
  
**

Oliver barely had the door open before he was hit by a body flying into his arms.

“Ollie!” Thea exclaimed, her arms wrapping around his neck, throwing him slightly off balance.

“Whoa, there Speedy,” Oliver said, warmth radiating in his voice. He hugged his sister tighter to him. It was nice—he’d forgotten how nice—to be near her sometimes manic enthusiasm. “You almost knocked me over, kid.”

Thea hit her brother lightly as she pulled away. “Not a kid.” Thea turned toward Felicity, the smile on her face growing significantly. “Felicity.” Thea didn’t pause for a beat before wrapping her arms around a slightly stunned Felicity. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s been such a long time. I’m so glad you’re back with Ollie. He was bearable when you were around.”

“Oh, I’m not back with Oliver,” Felicity said as she patted his sister’s back. “I mean, not like that. I’m just his therapist. And his friend—I mean…we’re friends.”

Thea pulled away from the hug, her bright smile still in place. “Sure. Whatever you guys say.”

“Speedy,” Oliver started, warning clear in his voice.

“Oliver, Felicity,” Moira’s voice rang out in the foyers. “Thea, darling, stop keeping your brother and Felicity hostage. Dinner’s almost ready.” Moira walked up to Oliver, patting his cheek lovingly. He bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek, before moving to take Felicity’s jacket from her.

“Felicity, darling.” Moira walked over to her and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the dining room. “I’m so happy you came. Oliver said you might not be able to make it. Would’ve been such a pity, you round out our numbers for the evening.”

Oliver turned to Thea, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Roy’s here,” she stated.

“Roy who?”

Thea rolled her eyes, linking her arm with her brother’s. “Roy Harper. Your teammate. Ring any bells?”

“What the hell is Harper doing here?”

“I invited him. We’re sort of dating.”

“Speedy!”

**   
  
  
**

Felicity felt like she was being led toward the gallows. It was an apt comparison, too as she walked into the Queen's formal dining room. Robert Queen sat at the far end of the long table, while Roy, whose presence surprised her, sat closer to the head of the table. Both men stood when she and Moira came into view, Roy throwing her a knowing wink.

“Felicity,” Moira began, “you know Roy Harper, I imagine? He was at Oliver’s party and is dating Thea.”

The last part of Moira’s sentence shocked Felicity a bit, but she took it in stride. “Yes, I do know Roy. How are you?”

“Good to see you, Lissy.”

“Lissy?” Thea asked, coming into view with Oliver on her arm. “Since when do people call you Lissy?”

“Since never,” Oliver bit out. Felicity turned to see him staring down Roy, unsure of what exactly that look meant.

“Iris calls Felicity that,” Roy said, his tone a little too smug.

“Iris is Felicity’s best friend. You barely know her, Harper. Show some respect.” Oliver’s tone left little room for argument, and Felicity held in a laugh as she watched the smile all off of Roy’s face.

“It’s alright, Oliver,” Felicity replied. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“You should probably call her Dr. Smoak,” Oliver said.

“Oliver.” Felicity put a hand on Oliver’s arm. “It’s alright. He’s just teasing.”

Oliver let out a gruff sound, stepping away from Felicity to pull out his mother’s chair at the head of the table. Felicity moved to seat herself, but Oliver’s hand on her waist stopping her. He pulled out the chair on the side of the table, across from Roy. She looked up at him, saying a brief thank you before sitting down.

Felicity avoided looking down the far end of the table where Robert Queen sat. He had yet to speak, but Felicity felt the heavy presence of his stare.

“Well, isn’t this lovely?” Moira asked. Felicity gave a strained smile, glancing over at Oliver to see his expression was about the same.

“I don’t really see why this is necessary,” Thea chimed in, “but sure mom, whatever you say.”

“Well, I’m happy that you’re home, Thea, and this felt like something that’s long overdue,” Moira said staring down at Thea.

“Yeah, try five years, or so,” Oliver muttered. Felicity quirked her lips, biting back a laugh.

The six dinner companions sat for a moment, the awkwardness of the situation felt a bit stifling.

“When did you start dating my sister, Roy?” Oliver asked, breaking into the silence. Felicity cut her eyes over to Oliver before turning to look between Roy and Thea.

Roy looked happily over at Thea before turning to Oliver and barely managing to school his expression. “A few days after the party at your place,” Roy replied.

“Uh-huh. And Speedy, you never thought to mention this to me?”

“Well, Ollie, I thought you’d be a little judgmental. Can’t imagine where I got that idea from,” Thea responded, raising her wine glass in Oliver’s direction.

“Thea…”

“So,” Moira broke in, turning her attention to Felicity. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve been in our home, Felicity. I’m glad to have you here.”

“Thank you,” Felicity responded automatically, taken aback by Moira’s apparent kindness.

“Mom,” Oliver spoke beside her. “I thought you said dinner was ready?”

“In a rush, son?” Robert Queen finally spoke from the other side of the table. Felicity pulled her shoulders back and looked down the table at Robert. She wasn’t eighteen anymore, and she refused to kowtow to this man in, regardless of who he was.

“You could say that,” Oliver replied, his tone colder than Felicity had ever heard directed toward his father.

“What’s the rush, Ollie?” Thea asked. “You and Felicity got a hot date later?”

Felicity felt heat crawl up her face as she reached for her water glass.

“Enough, Thea,” Oliver said through slightly gritted teeth. “Felicity already told you, she and I are just friends.”

“Hmm,” Thea trilled, taking a sip from her glass before setting it down. “You two looked awfully cozy the other day at lunch.”

Felicity arched an eyebrow at Thea making the younger woman laugh.

“You do know you two have been all over TMZ, right? They’re trying to find out who the mysterious hot blonde you were seen with a few days ago is. Very flattering pictures of you, Felicity. That dress was super cute.”

Thea looked like the cat that ate the canary, and it made Felicity’s stomach churn. “I didn’t—I didn’t know—I—”

“I went to lunch with Felicity and Iris. That's hardly newsworthy,” Oliver interrupted, and Felicity took the moment to breathe.

“And yet, it was in the news.”

“TMZ isn't news.”

“Okay, you two,” Moira interrupted, her voice stern in a very familiar way. “We have company, Oliver. And Thea, leave your brother alone.”

Thea rolled her eyes but threw a smirk Felicity’s way. “So how are things going with my brother? I mean,” Thea held up a hand, staying Oliver’s inevitable response, “with his therapy and all.” Roy snickered a little beside her.

“Roy—” Oliver started.

“Really well,” Felicity said, placing a hand on Oliver’s arm to stop him. “Oliver’s improving every day. I’m really happy with his progress.” She smiled over at Oliver and could’ve sworn she heard Thea sigh.

“You’re quite missed at the hospital,” Robert said, leaning back in his chair. “I spoke with Dr. Fei yesterday. She hopes you’ll come back to the hospital when you’re through with Oliver.”

Felicity smiled a bit at that. She missed the hospital too but didn’t want to voice that. She didn’t want Oliver to feel like she didn’t want to help him. They’d already crossed that hurdle.

“Well,” Moira spoke, “I’m sure your offer from The Archers will still be available to you when you’re finished with Oliver. I think your talents are better used with The Archers than at SCG.”

“You got an offer from The Archers?” Oliver asked, surprise obvious in his voice. “When did that happen?”

“Uh, a few years ago,” Felicity looked at him. He looked a little deflated like the news had knocked the wind out of him. “They offered me an assistant trainer position, but I turned it down. I didn’t want to be too far from Starling.”

“Oh,” Oliver nodded, but the look on his face didn’t diminish. “How did you know about that mom?”

“From Coach Steele, of course,” Moira stated simply.

“I ran into your mother today in the hospital,” Robert said, leaning so his forearms rested on the table. “She was talking to your father’s oncologist, a good friend of mine. I’m so sorry he’s been so sick.”

Felicity felt her vision growing dark and felt the rush of angry tears start to populate in her eyes.

“Your dad has cancer?” she heard Oliver ask beside her, but there was light buzzing in her ears, and she felt her breathing start to quicken.

She didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about the possibility of losing the man that chose her family, that took up the mantle as a father with such ease, it almost felt like he’d been in her life for longer than eight years.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Oliver’s hand came to rest in the middle of her back felt; it felt warm and safe, and for the moment she took comfort in that.

“Robert,” Moira said sternly.

“Hey, Ollie, guess what?” Thea said, her voice breaking into the low din in Felicity’s head. “I’m moving back to Starling.”

“Really?” Oliver replied. “That’s great Speedy. And, not that I haven’t missed you, but what about the gallery?” Felicity saw genuine happiness in Oliver’s face and it made her want to lean over and kiss him.

Hold that thought, Smoak. Not a good path to go down.

“I’ve missed you, too, Ollie, and the gallery is opening a branch in Starling that I get to help run.”

The smile on Oliver’s face grew. “I’m proud of you, Speedy.”

Raisa pushed through the door, breaking into the moment, a couple of platters in each hand, followed closely by another woman that Felicity didn’t recognize.

“Любимый!” Raisa exclaimed. She gently eased the platters of warm, fragrant food onto the table before reaching over to pat lightly at Felicity’s cheek. “I made honey rolls just for you when I found out you were coming.”

Felicity felt the tension ease from her body for the first time since walking into the Queen home. “Thank you, Raisa.”

“это ничего дорогая,” Raisa returned.

Oliver’s hand still rested on her back, rubbing firm, slowly circles between her shoulder blades.

“It’s alright,” she turned to him and whispered. “Thank you.”

Oliver sighed and pulled his hand away, and she immediately missed the steady, reassuring warmth of him.

**   
  
  
  
  
**

“That wasn’t quite as awful as I’d imagined,” Felicity spoke leaning slightly into the door of Oliver’s Range Rover.

He spared a quick glance at her, his mouth dropping open a little. “Were we at the same dinner?”

His parents spent the remainder the evening throwing questions at Felicity—his mother’s unnaturally praiseworthy, while his father’s bordered just this side of interrogative. 

She laughed and the sound made Oliver relax just a little, his grip loosening on the steering wheel.

“At least the wine was good,” she said as she tapped a slow rhythm against the window.

“Yes, the Queen wine cellar is good for many an awkward dinner party.”

“Hmm.”

Oliver let the silence sit for a little while. He wanted to know more about her father, more about her life, but he saw her response to his father—she was already skittish around him, he didn’t want to make her more so.

“I really am sorry about my parents.”

“Oliver—”

“No really, I have no idea what tonight was about. And I’m sorry my father was so hostile to you.”

“I’m used to it, it’s alright.”

That gave Oliver pause. “You’re used to my father being hostile towards you?”

“What? Oh, no, well…a little. I mean, I work at the same hospital as your father, Oliver, I’m not new to the ‘Queen method’ as it were.”

“Still, I’m sorry,” he said again, not really knowing what else to say. “At least maybe now we can avoid any other dinner invitations.”

“Hmm, most definitely. That way you don’t have to be so hostile to your sister’s boyfriend.”

“Roy is an idiot,” Oliver said. Felicity chuckled and it made him do the same.

“No he isn’t, and he seems to really care for your sister.”

“Roy is not the guy my sister belongs with. He’s…he’s reckless sometimes. And I don’t want that around Thea. She’s been through enough.” She’s seen enough of that from you, he thought.

“She's an adult, Oliver, whether you like it or not. Don’t try to make any decisions for her, you’ll just push her away from you.”

Oliver didn’t respond as they pulled back up to his house. He knew she was right, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. He didn’t want to tell Felicity that he saw some of himself in Roy, some of his former self at least.

“Your angry face isn’t going to work on Roy, either.” He turned to Felicity who was pointing at him. “That face. It doesn’t work on anyone, Oliver. You’re not as tough as you think, you know?”

“Oh, really?” Oliver smiled, leaning over the center console, into her space.

“Yep,” she said, and the smile that lit her face spilled over into laughter. Oliver found himself laughing right along with him, happier than he’d been in some time.

**   
  
**


	4. Postoperative Weeks 13-16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UST, a dire family situation, and a burgeoning romance.

“Digg? What are you doing here?” Oliver asked as he walked into the gym. 

Diggle smiled from his perch near the chest press bench. “Felicity called, asked me if I wanted to work out with you this morning. Said you needed some motivating.”

“Uh,” Felicity began. “I said it'd be nice if Oliver started getting back in the routine of a more intensive workout. Slowly.” She turned to Oliver and shook her head. “Not that you needed motivation.”

Digg shrugged a big shoulder. “Same difference.” 

Oliver showed his middle finger to his friend, making Diggle laugh aloud. Oliver’s gaze turned to Felicity who was leaning over a crate, picking through various items and setting them down on the ground.

He jostled slightly as he felt a light punch at his shoulder. The smirk on Diggle’s face bordered on manic. 

The previous weeks spent in Felicity’s company made the lingering embers of Oliver’s attraction to her fully ignite again. He looked forward to seeing her, to brushing past her to get to the coffee pot in the mornings, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume, trying to memorize each note. She started to become a part of his daily routine. They still didn’t talk about the past, but having her openly laughing with him, or touching him unnecessarily, or initiating time together outside of the gym felt like movement in the right direction. 

Oliver began to understand that his attraction to her paled in comparison to the growing need to never let her go again. In just a little over three months, she’d made herself indispensable. Her quiet competence and confidence in her own strengths got him to this point, where he was almost ready to go back to doing what he loved. A torn ACL at thirty-three isn’t something anyone wants to deal with, but for a professional athlete who stakes their life on the agility and peak performance of their body—it’s potentially disastrous. Her steady, unerring dedication felt like a gift he didn’t deserve. (And sure, she was being paid to do this, but now, he’d finally started to let himself believe that it was much more to her. It was for him.) She worked tirelessly with him, through his griping and sometimes dour moods; some days were harder than others, but she was always there at the start and finish of each one telling him how capable he was. There were even some days he wanted to push himself as hard as he possibly could, but she wouldn’t let him. He appreciated her even more on those days. 

He listened and did as he was told, and the results were paying off. 

Oliver shook himself out of his musings when a hand waved in front of his face. Felicity smiled up at him, her hands laden with a rope ladder, small orange cones, and some small weighted hoops. 

He reached forward, relieving her hands of some items, tossing a couple in Diggle’s direction. 

“Thank you,” Felicity laughed. “Such a gentleman.”

Diggle scoffed behind them. 

“Come on, let’s head outside before it gets too hot to be out there.”

Oliver nodded and followed behind her, not trying to mask how his eyes trailed over her legs and ass in her running shorts.

“You’re pathetic,” Diggle muttered from beside him. 

Oliver ignored his friend and continued to follow behind her. _If that isn’t an apt metaphor for your life, Queen_. 

Felicity turned to him once they were in the middle of the lawn, her hands reaching out to grab the cones from him. 

“I’ve taken a look at some of the tapes from your conditioning practices.” Felicity moved away, her voice rising slightly as she set up six cones in a rough figure eight. “We’re taking everything at half speed, Oliver.” She turned and gave him a look he’d seen often over the past few months. “I mean it. This is really just to see where you are. You have to be cleared by Dr. Wilson before going back to training camp and I need to check your overall stability.”

Oliver saluted her with his free hand. “Aye, aye captain.”

“Smart ass,” Felicity muttered walking back toward him and Diggle. She took the rope ladder from Diggle, placing it beside the formation of cones. 

“You can set those weighted hoops down where you’re at Oliver, and start running figure eights.”

Oliver spared a glance at a gleeful Diggle. “Is he just here to watch and snicker?” Oliver asked hooking his thumb toward his friend.

“No, Oliver,” Diggle said. “I’m going to run drills with you too, the snickering is just a part of my added charm.”

“Gentleman.” Felicity turned to them, hands on her hips. Both men sobered slightly and muttered out apologies. Felicity laughed. “That was almost too easy.”

“Making a woman in charge angry with you is among the dumbest things a man can do.” Diggle nodded at Felicity. “Lyla taught me that.”

Oliver laughed and reached for the hem of his shirt, shucking it off in one graceful move. The shorts he wore hung low at his hips. He rotated his torso left and right, swinging his arms to loosen up his back. 

Oliver turned when he heard Felicity let out a small sound, something between a gasp and cough. 

“You alright?” He asked, walking nearer to her. Oliver watched a rush of color crawl up her neck to her cheeks. 

“Mhmm,” Felicity nodded. “Yep, fine. You two can start whenever. I'm just gonna...” She jerked her thumb toward the house. “Get some water or something. For all of us. Water.” 

She turned and practically ran into the house. Oliver watched her retreating figure, a look of puzzlement on his face. 

He turned to Diggle who was barely holding in laughter. 

“You two are more entertaining than anything I've seen in a while,” Diggle grinned, shucking off his own shirt. “Thanks for that.” 

Oliver shook his head. “That was...” He shrugged at Diggle before clearing his throat. “I wasn't imagining that, right? That was attraction?” 

Diggle sighed and walked off to the rope ladder beside the cones. “You used to have game, man. What happened?” 

“You know what happened, Digg. All that game came back to bite me in the ass.” 

Diggle winced, pausing the stretching he'd been doing. “You've got to let that go, man. It happened a long time ago. You're a different man.” 

“Only because I had to be after that.” 

Oliver turned when he heard the sliding glass door open. His heart picked up speed, and he barely held back the impulse to flex. Felicity's face still held a bit of color, but it'd toned down significantly. As she drew nearer, he saw that her hairline was a little damp, as if she'd splashed herself with water. 

The thought of that made him grin broadly at her. He barely contained a laugh as she tripped a little as she got closer. 

“Figure eights, Oliver,” Felicity said. She pointed a blue tipped finger toward the cones. Diggle was already running the speed ladder, arms pumping as his feet dashed in and out with unerring quickness. 

Oliver threw a wink her way. “Sure thing, Doc.” 

Oliver and Diggle ran agility drills for a little over an hour, stopping only when the heat and humidity of the afternoon made the air around them thick and hazy. Both men worked up a good sweat, their arms and chests glistening in the midday sun. 

“How do you feel?” Felicity asked Oliver, handing both him and Diggle a bottle of water.

He hastily tore the cap, drinking greedily from the bottle, grateful when some of his splashed down his chest. He huffed a little once he’d finished, his eyes tracking slowly up Felicity’s body, almost involuntarily.

“Good. Great actually. I feel stronger.”

He watched Felicity nod and swallow thickly. He turned to face her fully, walking a few steps closer. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Felicity.” His hand trailed down her arm, squeezing her hand lightly once he reached it. “Honestly.”

Her fingers trembled lightly in his hand before returning his gesture and pulling her hand away. She took a step back from him and he couldn’t stop the little frown that formed on his face. 

“I’m glad. I’m really glad, Oliver.” Felicity smiled at him, but it wasn’t nearly as bright as before. Maybe he’d been too—

“You should grab a shower,” Felicity remarked, then her eyes went wide. “I mean, or not. Do what you want. You’re just really sweaty. Not that that’s a problem. I mean you were just working out in the sun, of course you’re sweaty and it’s not that I think you smell bad or anything, the opposite really, I—”

“Felicity, relax,” Oliver said. “Thank you. I will take your shower suggestion.”

“Okay,” she squeaked and backed up a little further moving her gaze over his shoulder. “John, always great to see you, and thank you for doing this today.”

“No problem, Felicity,” Diggle replied, a genuine smile lighting his features. “Maybe you and Oliver can join me and Lyla sometime for dinner. She’d really like to meet you.”

Oliver took in the way Felicity’s shoulders sagged, just a little, her body seeming to relax again. 

“That sounds wonderful, John. Just let me know. I look forward to meeting Lyla as well.” She waved a hand at both men and quickly retreated into the house.

“You’re in so much trouble, man.” Diggle chuffed Oliver against the arm. “Good luck with that.”

* * *

Felicity barely made it to the sanctuary of her room. Her legs wobbled beneath her—hands shaking—heart racing far too fast. Her feet hit auto pilot as her mind provided an endless loop of images of Oliver and his unfairly perfect body. 

It was different than the pool; sure, she got a incredible glimpse of him then, wet and muscular, slushing easily through the water. 

But the training session? It nearly killed her. Watching Oliver move, his powerful coordinated body—sweat dripping down his rippling muscles—shorts slung low and exposing the grooves at his hips—almost sent her into cardiac arrest. 

She’d felt like a Harlequin heroine in desperate need of ravishing. She’d watched the two men throwing a weighted medicine ball back and forth while they did lateral squats and held in the impulse to fan herself. 

She’d told herself she was checking Oliver's lateral movements when she'd drawn closer to them, not appreciating how his shorts fitted perfectly against his ass each time he squatted. 

Felicity reached automatically for her phone with a deep need to talk to her best friend until she remembered that Iris was out of town at a conference in Gotham. The time difference notwithstanding, she knew her friend would probably laugh (good-naturedly) and tell her to just 'get over yourself and kiss him.' 

Felicity had heard that a time or two before. 

Groaning, she flopped down on the edge of her bed, reclining back, allowing herself get lost once again in the images from the morning. 

Felicity's phone buzzed beside her before she could get too far into her memory. She picked up the phone and saw her mother's name scroll across the screen. 

Felicity sat up with a sigh and answered. “Hey mom.” 

“Baby girl?” Donna's voice was shaky and tearful, putting Felicity immediately on alert. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Honey, it’s your father. He…we’re at the hospital. I can’t—”

“I’ll be right there mom.” Felicity jumped up from the bed hastily. She set her phone on the dresser, putting it on speaker as she opened and closer drawers. “Did you call Laurel or Sara?”

Donna sniffled. “No, honey, I called you first. He’s—he has a high fever, and I went to wake him from his nap, you know he’s been so tired lately, and he wouldn’t—he didn’t…so I called for an ambulance.”

Felicity took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes against the onslaught of tears she could feel pricking at her eyes. 

“I’ll call Laurel and have her call Sara. I think Sara’s still in Central City, last time I heard from her anyway.” Felicity closed a drawer with her hip and shucked off her shorts to pull on a pair of jeans. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, mom. I love you.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” Donna said, her voice breaking. “I love you, too.”

Felicity ended the call and moved quickly and haphazardly around the space. She grabbed an old ‘Starling City General Doctor’s Fund of 2011’ t-shirt and pulled her ponytail up into a messy bun. 

She sat on the side of the bed for a moment, letting herself give in to the need to fall apart, just a little. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—do it in front of her mother or Laurel. Felicity gave herself just a few solid moments to let the fear wash over her, to let the tears run unchecked before she stood and wiped them away, surveying her face in the mirror. 

Felicity grabbed her keys and bag and threw open the door, nearly screaming as she saw Oliver poised on the other side, a plate of cookies in hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, I—”

“It’s alright,” Felicity spoke as she moved around him. “Sorry, I’ve gotta—”

“Felicity, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she threw over her shoulder as she beat a fast retreat down the hallway. 

“Felicity.” Oliver stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

She turned to him, her eyes still brimming with tears that she had no strength to hide from him. 

“Felicity,” he said again. “What happened?”

“It’s my dad,” Felicity spoke, her breath growing choppy and shallow. She tried to continue but her whole body shook, her throat grew tight, and the tears started to pour from her eyes.. “He’s—he’s—”

Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her down the hallway to the stairs. She tucked her face into his chest, willing the tears to go away, embarrassed, but too worried to care. 

He set the plate down on a little side table and wrapped both of his arms around her. She breathed in the clean, sharp scent of his body wash, and sandalwood, and him. 

“What’s going on?”

Felicity felt herself calm as Oliver’s hands moved up and down her back in slow, precise circles. 

“He’s at the hospital,” Felicity said, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I’ve got to go, I told my mom I’d be there in fifteen minutes.”

Oliver nodded and dropped his arms. “Let me grab my keys and I’ll take you.”

“Oliver, no, it’s not—”

“It’s not up for negotiation, Felicity.” If it were any other time, she would’ve bristled at his tone. “I’m coming with you. I’m sure you’d get there just fine, but could you just humor me?”

She nodded at him and he threw her a quick smile, turning to go and grab car keys. Once he got back, he grabbed her hand and led her through the house to the garage, not letting go until he’d opened the door to his Land Rover, settling her inside. 

The drive to the hospital was quiet, and Felicity willed herself to think of her father and not of the fact that once Oliver got into the car, he grabbed her hand again, his thumb stroking a soothing rhythm over her knuckles. 

Felicity called Laurel from Oliver’s car, letting her know what was going on and that she was almost there. Laurel was scheduled for court, but let Felicity know that as soon as she could find a colleague to cover, she would meet them at the hospital.

Felicity let her head fall back against the plush leather headrest, her eyes sliding shut, trying valiantly to keep the sharp pain of loss at bay.

_He’s not gone yet, Felicity. You can’t think that way._

“What happened?” Oliver’s voice broke into the silence, tenderly, as if not to disturb the very tenuous silence. 

“I don’t really know,” Felicity replied, hating the way her voice was high and reedy. “Mom said she tried to wake him and that she couldn’t and that—oh.” Felicity drew her hand out of his and brought it to her face, leaning over in the seat to try and catch her breath. 

She felt out of control and helpless all in one. The feeling of suffocating returned as she heaved against her hands.

“Breathe, Felicity.” Oliver’s steady hand landed on her back, moving in comforting circles again. “I’m here. You can—yell and cry and hit something if you need to. You don’t have to pretend to be okay with me.”

Felicity looked over at him, her face splotchy and wet. She gave him a wobbly smile, hoping that her gratefulness showed through. “Oliver,” she stated simply. 

He smiled at her. “It’s alright.”

Felicity let Oliver hold her hand as they walked through the hospital lobby to the bank of elevators. Her mind was elsewhere, and his quiet comfort made her feel a little more stable. She called her mother to let her know she was there, not mentioning Oliver’s presence for the moment, and her mother told her that she was in the fourth-floor waiting room while the doctors were in with her dad.

Felicity pushed the elevator button again, her foot tapping a manic rhythm against the floor. 

“Hey.” Oliver dropped her hand and pulled her into his chest again, his lips brushing over her hairline. Her body relaxed into his, as if it was being called home. 

The elevator dinged open, and Oliver pulled back enough to lead them both into it, pushing the button for four. 

When the elevator stopped, they stepped out together, their heads swiveling to look up and down the hallway.

“Sweetheart,” Donna’s voice rang out down the hall. 

“Mom.” Felicity moved, somewhat reluctantly out of Oliver’s grasp and into her mother’s extended arms.

“Oh baby girl.” Donna held onto Felicity tightly, her head buried against her daughter’s shoulder. 

“Have you heard from the doctor yet?” Felicity asked pulling back to look at her mother. They walked together towards a little row of chairs across from the nurses station.

“He’s lucid now, but just barely,” Donna spoke, mopping at her eyes with a tattered tissue. “But he has a temperature of 103. He’s on fluids right now, but they’re worried about him going in and out of consciousness and—”

Donna broke down again, her body listing toward her daughter. Before Felicity could blink, Oliver was at their sides, lowering Donna gently into a seat. 

Donna looked up, a little startled, before lightly touching Oliver’s arm. “Oliver, sweetheart, I didn’t realize you were—” Donna stopped short and gave her daughter a searching look. She turned back to Oliver and smiled a little. “Thank you, Oliver.”

“It’s nothing Mrs. Smoak, er, Lance. Sorry.”

Donna shook her head. “It’s Donna, darling, don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize you’d be here. Felicity didn’t tell me anything. Are you doing alright?”

“Mom—” Felicity started, but Oliver cut across her.

“Felicity was really upset, and while I’m sure she would’ve been fine on her own, I offered to drive her here. I can go though, if you’d like. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No.” Donna and Felicity said together. Donna arched an eyebrow at her daughter, giving her a look Felicity recognized as intrigued.

“No, sweetheart,” Donna said, squeezing his arm again. “I’m glad you can be here for Felicity. And it’s always good to see you.”

Oliver smiled. “Can I get you anything Donna? A cup of coffee or something to eat?”

“Oh, Oliver, a cup a coffee would be a life saver.” Donna smiled broadly at him. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem.” Oliver leaned down and kissed Felicity’s forehead for the second time that day. “I’ll get you one as well.”

“Thanks, Oliver,” Felicity replied, her voice more timid than she liked. “Two creams—”

“Three sugars. Yeah, I got it.” He ran his thumb down her cheek before walking back down the hallway. 

“Well, that’s certainly a development,” Donna spoke, barely waiting until Oliver was ten feet away. “You’ve failed to mention that to me.”

“Mom,” Felicity sighed. “Now is not the time, alright? And we’re just friends.”

“Now is an excellent time, sweetheart.” Donna reached up and pushed a piece of hair behind Felicity’s ear. “I could use some good news, and please. I may not be as smart as you are, but that didn’t look anything like _just friends_. Just friends don’t drive you to the hospital or kiss you like you’re the most important thing in the world.”

“He didn’t kiss me.”

Donna reached over and tapped Felicity’s forehead. “I think he did.”

“That wasn’t even a kiss, mom, that was just…it was nothing. Just…nothing.”

“Uh-huh. You don’t have to pretend with me, you know? I’m not going to judge you, or scold you—you’re an adult, Felicity, with a good head on her shoulders. The way you looked at him, and the way he held you—”

“He was here all of a minute, how you do even—”

“You looked like I felt when I first saw Quentin.”

Felicity sighed heavily and leaned her head back into the wall. “I don’t know what to do, mom.”

Donna reached over and took Felicity’s hand in hers. “I know you were hurt years ago. I know you still carry that around. Some things don’t leave us, no matter how hard we try. But, you’re not eighteen anymore, Felicity, and neither is Oliver.”

“Yeah, but that family—”

“Has no hold on you. Don’t let them keep sending you on the run.”

The elevator dinged at the end of the hallway. The sharp sound of fast moving heels hitting the floor drew Donna and Felicity’s attention. A harried Laurel moved nearer to them. She looked disheveled in a way Felicity had never seen, her face streaked with tears.

Felicity admired the preternatural calm that surrounded Laurel more often than not. She had a way of clinically assessing the situation, any situation, and thinking through it logically—she supposed that’s what made Laurel such a successful lawyer. 

When they’d sat down at that ‘family meeting’ almost five years ago, Laurel had been rational and calm, asking the questions Felicity wished she’d known how to voice. 

Seeing her like she was now ratcheted up the fear spinning around Felicity’s heart. 

“Felicity,” Laurel said as she drew nearer. Laurel pulled Felicity into a hug, and for a moment Felicity felt a little stronger. They were not sisters by blood, but they’d grown close over the years, the two of them realizing family was more than blood.

“Donna.” Laurel reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Any news on dad?”

“No," Felicity replied shaking her head. “Not since I got here, but mom said that he’s a little more alert, but not a lot. They’re concerned about his fever.”

Laurel nodded and moved to embrace Donna as well. Felicity knew that Laurel and Sara’s mother lived in Central City, and that while they were kind and cordial to Donna, they never connected on the same level that Felicity connected with Quentin. 

“Sara’s on her way back from Coast City with Nyssa,” Laurel told the two women. “I didn’t even realize she’d left Central City, but then again, that’s Sara.” 

“I’m glad you could reach her,” Donna replied. “Your father’s missed Sara a lot.”

Felicity tuned out as Laurel sat down beside Donna and started to speak to her lowly, asking about what other things she knew. Felicity felt better with Laurel there, someone to buffer against the onslaught of questions she didn’t want to answer from Donna, and also just because Laurel had been a great friend to her over the years.

The elevator dinged again, and Felicity turned to see Oliver heading back toward them, a drink carrier in one hand, and white pastry bag in the other.

“Hey,” he said sitting down beside her. “I saw Laurel on my way back, so I turned around and got another coffee. I don't know if she wants it, but it can't hurt, right?”

Felicity couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. She reached over and touched his hand, her fingers slipping through his. “Thank you Oliver, I can't tell you how much I—”

“Hey,” Oliver interrupted, setting the bag down beside him. “None of that. I don’t need your thanks, alright? I just want to be here for you.”

Felicity nodded and tipped her head up to keep the tears that lingered in her eyes where they were. 

Felicity covered his hand with hers, taking in his strength and warmth and letting herself give into the impulse she’d had for longer than she’d like to admit. 

“Donna,” Oliver spoke as he leaned over to the coffee carrier. “I got you some coffee the way Felicity likes it. I hope that’s alright.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Oliver,” Donna practically gushed. “That’s just perfect. You’re so good to my Lissy.”

Felicity shook her head a little at her mother, both embarrassed and grateful for something recognizable in the moment. 

Felicity looked over at Oliver, an apology ready on her tongue but stopped short at the way he was looking at her. It made her shiver just enough to be noticed. 

“You cold?” Oliver asked, but didn’t pause for an answer as he took of his light jacket and draped it around her shoulders. 

“Thank you.” Felicity smiled up at him and grabbed the collar with both hands, pulling it tighter to her, the heady scent of his cologne and _him_ surrounded her. The comfort it provided her was something she didn’t have time to think about. 

“Excuse me?” A gentle female voice rang out. “Are you the Lances?”

“Yes,” Donna said, standing up quickly in front of the tall, dark-skinned woman holding a chart. “Are you—”

“I’m Dr. Torres,” she spoke, her voice tinged with a hint of an unidentifiable accent. “I’m the attending looking after Mr. Lance. Is that your husband, ma’am?”

“Yes, and it’s just Donna. This is my daughter, Felicity.” Donna pointed then turned toward Laurel. “And Quentin’s daughter Laurel. What can you tell us?”

“Well, as you know, Mr. Lance has neutropenia,” she paused for a moment and looked around the assembled group. “It’s a condition where the white blood cell counts are extremely low and it makes the body more susceptible to infection. More than likely he developed this condition due to chemotherapy. It’s not uncommon. It seems that Mr. Lance has contracted the flu. For a normal healthy person, it can be dangerous, but due to Mr. Lance’s weakened condition, it’s very concerning.”

Felicity swayed a little, her legs felt heavy and light all at the same time. A steadying hand rested on her hip, and she let herself fall back into Oliver’s chest, thankful for his presence. 

“So what does all this mean, Dr. Torres?” Laurel asked. 

“It means we’re going to do everything we can to get your father’s fever regulated because he’s not really able to do it himself. It also means we’re going to have to keep him in the hospital to monitor the situation. I don’t know what’s going to happen if we can’t get his fever down. Right now he’s in and out of consciousness and because of that I’m going to have him moved to ICU so he can be more closely monitored.”

“Can we see him?” Donna asked, tears running down her face. 

Dr. Torres nodded her head. “But, not until we get him stabilized in ICU, then it’s one at a time. I’ll come back by and take you there when he’s settled.”

Donna sat back down heavily as Dr. Torres left, and Felicity and Laurel sat on either side of her. Felicity grabbed her mother’s hand and held on tightly. She felt Oliver’s steady hand on her back and she allowed herself to lean into him just for a moment. 

Another two hours passed before Dr. Torres came back, taking a barely together Donna with her to ICU. Felicity and Laurel sat with one another, no words passing between them for a moment, but not feeling like any were necessary.

Oliver had gone for more coffee. It was obvious to Felicity he didn’t really know what to do, so he filled the void by making himself practically useful.

“So, when did that start?” Laurel asked. Her eyes were red and she looked tired, but still managed to maintain that air of authority.

“Hmm?” Felicity responded, her head falling back against the wall.

“You and Oliver? I was surprised to see him here with you. You two didn’t seem quite so close at his party.”

Felicity shrugged. “I’d just ran into him right after mom called me about dad. He insisted on bringing me here. We’re friends.” Felicity’s voice was low and straight forward, but Laurel still scoffed.

“He’s crazy about you, Felicity. Anyone can see that. What man comes with a woman to the hospital for a family member he doesn’t even know?”

“He knows dad.”

“You mean he’s been arrested by dad. Not the same thing.” Felicity turned to Laurel and arched an eyebrow.

“We may not have gone to school together, but I’ve lived in this town my whole life, too. The Queens were basically impossible to ignore.”

“True.” Felicity lifted her head and let it fall back heavily. “Nothing’s going on between us, Laurel. He’s just a friend.”

“Okay,” Laurel said and Felicity kept her eyes trained forward to avoid any further interrogation.

Donna came back down the hallway, her face pale and tear stained. Felicity stood and made her way over to her mother, who fell heavily into Felicity’s open arms. 

“Oh honey. It’s not good. He’s—he’s so—go and see him, love. You can only stay fifteen minutes at a time, but you should go and see him.”

“Let Laurel go first, I’ll stay with you for a while.”

They moved back over to the seating area, and Laurel nodded when Felicity told her to go on and see their dad. 

“Hey,” Oliver’s soft voice filtered in at her side. Felicity looked up at him, and gave a small smile then let out a little laugh at the bag he held in his hand. 

“It’s way past lunch, but you didn’t eat any of the pastries I brought earlier.” He sat down beside her and rattled the bag a little. “I think you should eat a little something. Your mom, too.”

Donna picked her head up from Felicity’s shoulder and leaned back to smile over at Oliver. “Thank you.”

Oliver shrugged and looked down briefly before moving his eyes back to Felicity’s. “So?”

Felicity dropped her arms from around her mom and turned a little to face Oliver. “As your PT, I should really caution against Big Belly Burger, but whatever you got smells amazing. Please tell me you got—”

“A double order of fries with salt and pepper. I’m not new.”

Felicity reached over and touched his hand, letting her fingers brush over his knuckles, her touch lingering just a little too long.

“You’re a good man, Oliver Queen.”

He smirked at her and took a burger out of the bag, handing it over to her. “Donna? Would you like one as well?”

“Yes, please,” her mother replied, making Felicity’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Don’t act so surprised, Felicity,” Donna continued. “Comfort food is a necessity right now, don’t you think?”

Felicity hummed in agreement as she ripped into the slightly greasy wrapper around the burger. She moaned as the taste of salt and ketchup and cheese broke over her tastebuds. She let herself revel in the comfort that it provided, the familiarity, the feeling that everything was alright in the world.

Her hand dipped into the bag that sat on Oliver’s lap, reaching in for a couple of fries. She sighed deeply and let the ritual clear her mind for a moment. 

Her empty wrapper disappeared from her hand and was replaced by the half full carton of french fries. She tossed a smile Oliver’s way and wondered why his cheeks turned slightly pink. 

The clacking sound of heels drew Felicity’s attention away from Oliver. She looked down the hall to see Laurel moving back toward them, her shoulders slumped and that air of certainty that usually clung to here was no where to be found. 

Felicity handed the fries back to Oliver, and tried to smile when he squeezed her hand. He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek.

“I’ll be right here.”

She nodded and stood. Felicity didn’t want to go, but she made herself move down the hall, her fingers brushing Laurel’s as they passed one another.

The quiet of the ICU only added to Felicity’s apprehension. It was colder there than it was on the main unit, and Felicity found herself even happier for the warmth of Oliver’s too-big jacket around her. 

The nurse at the main desk asked her name, and who she was here to see, then told her she’d been cleared for fifteen minutes. 

When Felicity opened the door to her father’s room, she barely held in a gasp. She’d seen him weakened and hooked up to various machines throughout his illness, but nothing ever this dire. His eyes fluttered as low hum of machines filled the silence of the room. 

Felicity moved on heavy legs to sit in the chair beside his bed. She reached for his hand and found it clammy and a little cold. 

“Dad…you know, ever since you told me I could call you dad, that’s all you’ve ever been to me. I saw… The man who’s actual progeny I am wanted nothing to do with me, I just got so used to not being wanted or good enough, and you had no reason to want to claim me, but you did any way, so I’m gonna be a little selfish and ask that you please not leave us. Not now. Preferably not ever, okay? Please get better. Please.”

Felicity let silent tears stream down her face as she leaned over, her head resting on Quentin’s arm. 

“Please don’t leave us.”

Too soon the nurse came by and told Felicity that her time was up. She stood, leaning over to press a kiss against her father’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Felicity didn’t remember the short walk back to the waiting area, but as soon as she made it there, Oliver’s arms were wrapped around her, and she buried her face in his chest. She let out a shuddering breath as he whispered tenderly into her ear. 

“Sweetheart,” Donna’s voice came from beside her. She pulled back from Oliver and looked over at her mother, who looked marginally more put together. Oliver touched her arm lightly and moved off a little ways, giving she and her mother a little space. “Since we’re only allowed in for short intervals, why don’t you and Laurel go home, and I’ll stay.”

“Mom, it’s alright, you shouldn’t be here alone.”

“Honey,” Donna sighed and touched Felicity’s face. “The three of us sitting here worrying isn’t any better than sitting here worrying alone. Besides, you and Laurel both have jobs and you need your rest.”

“Mom—”

“It’s alright, baby girl. Please. I promise I’ll call you the moment I hear anything, alright?”

“Okay,” Felicity said, not wishing to upset her mother. She rested her hand on her mother’s arm. “Promise you’ll let me know the moment anything changes?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Donna kissed Felicity’s cheek. She inclined her head down the hallway and smirked. “You may want you go rescue your guy from your sister.”

Felicity looked down the hallway to see Oliver standing a little ways away, looking at her. Laurel was turned speaking to him, a look of determination on her face. 

_That can’t be good_.

* * *

Oliver looked over at Felicity, her head lolling slightly against the headrest. Her eyes were closed and remnants of tears still clung to her cheeks. 

He sighed and turned his attention back to the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel too tight. He felt adrift and out of his element. Comfort wasn’t something that he did particularly well. In all the many iterations of himself, he wasn’t exactly the guy anyone came to for emotional support.

He wanted so badly to have the words to say to her, to let her know that she could come to him with anything. At the hospital, when she’d slipped her hand into his, when she’d clung to him tightly as they spoke to the doctor, not letting him go, he’d thought maybe—just maybe she was feeling _something_; but when they’d reached the car she’d shut down. She’d turned to the window and stared out of it with a determined focus.

He didn’t know what to do. And ever since Felicity came back into his life, it was a feeling that was beginning to linger.

He pulled into the drive as they got back to the house, the sun beginning to make its descent across the sky. 

The lack of movement didn’t seem to stir Felicity from the sleep that’d taken over about ten minutes into their drive. Oliver got out of the car and quickly moved around to the passenger’s side, opening the door easily. He trembled as he leaned across her to unbuckle her seatbelt; she smelled of honeysuckle, and it made a memory swim around in his head. 

“Felicity,” he spoke softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re home.” 

Felicity shifted and turned her head away from him, but she didn’t open her eyes. Oliver smiled, she’d always been a bear to wake up, it was nice to know some things didn’t change.

He leaned into the car and slid one arm under her knees, while the other gently moved around her back. He started to lift her when she startled, and grabbed onto Oliver’s shoulders.

“Oliver, don’t. Sorry I fell asleep, but you can’t carry me. Put me down.”

“Felicity.” Oliver laughed a little. “It’s alright, I can handle it.”

She shook her head. “No, Oliver. Put me down. It’s too much added weight on your knee. You’ve still got a while to go before you start carrying girls around again.” She patted at his chest and he bent down, reluctantly, to set her feet on the ground. She smiled weakly up at him and touched his arm again. He tried to ignore how it made his heart race. 

“Thank you anyway,” Felicity said sleepily. “I’m sorry about falling asleep on you. I didn’t mean to. I’m just really—”

“Please don’t apologize, Felicity. It hasn’t been an easy day for you. I’m not offended.”

He reached out immediately when her body listed toward him, not sure how steady she was at the moment. 

“Why don’t you go inside and go to bed? Or are you hungry? I’m sure Elena left something for us to eat.”

“No.” Felicity righted herself, squeezing his arm as she did. “Honestly, Oliver, you've been so great today, but it's almost seven and all I want to do is go to sleep.”

Oliver shrugged. “Alright, let's get you inside.” 

“Oliver, please don't feel obligated to—” 

“Don't worry about me, Felicity. Let me worry about you for a change, yeah?” 

He nearly pulled her into an embrace again as she bit at her trembling lips. 

She nodded and let him lead her inside the house and up the stairs to her room. The smell of rosemary and lemon followed them, but Felicity insisted that she wasn't hungry when Oliver asked again. 

Oliver stopped at the threshold of her room as she moved through it. She flopped down on the bed, and reclined back leaving him with a view he didn't mind at all. 

“Do you need any help or anything?” He wasn't sure what he was asking, but he tried, unsuccessfully, to push the images of him undressing her from him mind. 

Felicity sat up quickly, arching an eyebrow at him. “No, I’m good, Oliver. I'm pretty sure I can manage to get undressed on my own.” 

Oliver watched as her face turned pink and she moved her eyes from his. He sighed and backed away a little, his gaze moving to the big picture window at the opposite side of the room. 

“Yeah of course,” he said and cleared his throat. “I'm just gonna...” He pointed over his shoulder and sighed. “If you need anything at all, or you want food later and don't feel like leaving your room, just let me know, okay?” 

Felicity nodded and got up from the bed, moving toward him. “Look, I know you said not to say thank you, but I need to any way.” She touched his arm and stood up on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

Oliver’s heart hammered in his chest. He nodded jerkily at her as she stepped back. “I won’t ever mind being there for you, Felicity.”

She smiled and let go of her arm, reaching for the bedroom door. “Good night, Oliver.”

“Good night.” He backed away as she swung the door closed, his body vying to still be near her. He walked a little ways down the hallway before stopping to bang his head against the wall. 

“This is hopeless,” he muttered to himself as he made his way down the stairs. 

Oliver’s phone dinged as he reached the kitchen. Covered dishes lined the stove and a note on the fridge let him know that Elena had left a pie in the oven to set. He opened the over to see a strawberry pie, a favorite of Felicity’s that he’d offhandedly mentioned to Elena. 

_You’re going to get a raise, Elena_.

Oliver filled his plate with food and sat at the kitchen nook before looking down at his phone. 

**TM: Buddy! What’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Party tonight at Verdant. You up for it?**

Oliver sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. 

**OQ: Nah. It’s been a rough day.**

**TM: The warden keeping you in now? Come on man, I haven’t seen you since your (almost completely lame) party. You used to be fun.**

**OQ: Well, since I’m not any fun anymore why would you want me to hang out? Any way, like I said, it’s been a long day. I’ll pass.**

**TM: Fine, whatever, man. Just remember that you’re still totally eligible and even though Smoak is 10x hotter than she was in high school, you could do so much better.**

Oliver barely refrained from slamming his phone down as he read Tommy’s last text. During their high school days, Tommy went out of his way to let Oliver know how he felt about Felicity. 

More often than not, Tommy would bring girls around to the parties they threw at the Queen mansion, who had no regard for the fact he had a steady girlfriend and had no qualms about hitting on him in front of Felicity. For her part, Felicity had been unruffled by these attempts, had often wandered off to other parts of the party, clinging to Iris and their small group of friends that didn’t quite fit with the Queens or the Merlyns of the world. 

To his knowledge, Tommy had always been gracious to Felicity, saving the barbed jabs and criticisms for when Felicity wasn’t around. But he shouldn’t have let it go on. He should’ve said something to Tommy. Maybe Tommy had said those things to other people. Maybe Felicity heard and that’s why she’d broken up with him. Maybe…

He closed his eyes and shook himself of the memories. _That was a long time ago, Oliver._

The doorbell rang and Oliver sat for a moment, puzzled. Not many people knew his gate code, and no one but his parents came over without calling first, though they never used to the doorbell.

Oliver levered himself off the stool and made his way to the front door. His shoulders slumped and he banged his head repeatedly against the front door after he looking into the peephole. 

He opened the door a little to see Helena standing on the other side, her long dark hair pulled back and away from her face. She looked rested and tanner than he’d seen her, but other than that, none of the feelings he’d once had for her came to the surface. Nothing but annoyance came to mind now as she stood in front of him.

“What are you doing here, Helena? We have nothing left to say to one another; but, thank you for reminding me that I need to change the security code at the gate.”

“Oliver,” Helena sighed and leaned into him a little. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came to apologize.”

“I’m absolutely uninterested in your apologies.”

“Can you please just hear me out, Oliver? Just a few minutes of your time, then I’ll be gone forever, if that’s what you want.”

Oliver gritted his teeth and refrained from saying what he actually wanted. He opened the door wider and let her pass by him, the cloying scent of her perfume wafting in with her. 

She paused in the lobby and turned a slow circle before coming to face him. Oliver stood back against the closed door, not wishing to be in any type of close proximity with her. 

“My father has a lot of debts to a lot of very bad people,” Helena spoke softly. “I was just trying to help him out.”

“By selling information about me to the tabloids. Most of which wasn’t true.”

“Yes, alright, yes. I’m not proud of that Oliver, but he’s my father, and I’d do just about anything—”

“Please spare me, Helena.” Oliver moved off the door and walked closer to her. “I know you think I’m just some dumb jock, but I paid attention. I really cared about you, Helena. Don’t you remember telling me how you and your father didn’t speak much anymore? How you blamed him for so many things that’d gone wrong in your life? So why would you think I’d believe you were trying to help him?”

“Because it’s the truth. Yeah, my father isn’t a good man, and we weren’t close, but he asked for my help, so I gave it.”

“At the expense of our relationship.”

“I’m pretty sure you would’ve done the same if the tables were reversed, Oliver.”

“No, I wouldn’t have, Helena, and the fact that you think that just goes to show that you didn’t know me at all.”

“You really think you’re that upstanding of a guy? I know a lot more about you than you think, Oliver Queen. Don’t forget that.”

Oliver rubbed a hand over the back of his head and shrugged. “Great. So noted. Anything else? Because I’d really like for you to get out of my house now.”

“Oliver?”

Felicity’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs, her light footsteps almost undetectable as she descended.

Oliver moved toward the stairs without any real conscious thought. “Is everything alright? Did your mom call? Do you need to—”

“Nothing’s wrong, Oliver.” She smiled at him and continued to walk down the stairs. “I just decided that I was pretty hungry and oh—” she paused. Oliver tracked her eyes to where Helena was standing not far behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said softly. “I didn’t realize you had company, I’ll just…” She pointed back up the stairs and started to move in that direction, but he stopped her.

“It’s okay, Felicity. It’s just Helena, and she’s on her way out.”

“Oh.” Felicity shrugged, but didn’t move any further down the stairs.

“Felicity?” Helena asked. Oliver turned to look at her. She had a smile on her face, but it bordered on sinister rather than friendly. Oliver’d seen that look a number of times during their tumultuous relationships, and he didn’t like that it was directed toward Felicity. “You certainly move on quickly, Oliver.”

“It’s time for you to go now, Helena.” Oliver moved over to the front door and opened it. 

Helena ignored him and walked toward the staircase, her eyes set on Felicity. “A word of caution for you—Oliver isn’t really a long term kind of guy. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Well, I’ve been around a whole month longer than you so far, and I’m not interested in selling anything to the tabloids about Oliver, so I’m not too worried.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up at Felicity’s response. She looked like the queen of the castle standing in the middle of the stairs, back straight, eyes focused in on Helena. He could see the start of dull color starting to creep up her neck and he wanted to desperately to kiss her in that moment.

“Helena,” Oliver spoke, clearing his throat. “It’s time for you to go now, and don’t come by again, please.”

Helena stared at Felicity for another beat before turning and marching past Oliver. “I did actually care about you, a lot. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“If only that really meant something to me, Helena.” Oliver shut the door and locked it, taking a deep before turning around to face Felicity.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she quickly descended the stairs and moved toward him. “I don’t know what came over me, that I said that, but I’m sorry if—”

“Hey,” Oliver spoke, moving closer to her. He reached out to touch her arm, squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you did. It’s not too often that I have someone rushing to my defense.”

“Except you literally have an entire team of people rushing to your defense. You know, as a quarterback.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and drew her in under his arm. She felt warm and the familiar scent of honeysuckle acted like a buoy. 

“I didn’t mean literally, although you’re not wrong, it’s just—I was a screw up for a long time there. Sometimes I still think I am, I mean I should’ve known something was off with Helena. Everything felt—forced between us. I don’t know. Sorry.” He lowered his head and kissed her hairline. “You probably don’t want to talk about this.”

He felt Felicity shrug, her shoulder brushing against his torso. He held onto her tighter. 

“It’s alright.”

They stood for a moment like that until he pulled her into a true hug, both of his arms wrapping completely around her. His chin rested on her head and her hands gripped tightly at his t-shirt.

Oliver tipped his head down when he felt her move back a little. His breath stuttered as he looked into her face. Her eyes were wide, and a little red still, but she looked beautiful. All he would have to do is lower his face, just a little, and brush his lips over hers.

He wanted to, he _needed_ to, but he didn’t know what it would mean if she kissed him back on the day she found out her father was extremely ill.

He pulled back from her, keeping one steady arm around her, tucking her into his side. He took a few deep breaths, letting her scent wash over him and calm him.

“Elena made a strawberry pie for you,” he whispered against her hair.

She groaned, and it all but stopped his heart. She really had no clue what she was doing to him. 

“I might eat my dessert first,” she replied, her voice muffled against the side of his chest. “Elena makes the best desserts. I’m going to miss that when I leave here.”

Oliver’s hold on her tightened as they made their way to the kitchen. He hadn’t given any thought to the fact that one day she’d go back home. She was such a fixture in his life and his home now. 

He didn’t want to know what it would be like to come down the stairs in the morning and not hear her humming some pop tune, or hissing slightly as she burned her tongue on the too-hot coffee she took a sip of, or watch her move around his space like it was hers, like she belonged there.

He led her over to the nook and directed her to sit, ignoring her protests that she was capable of getting her own food. 

Oliver opened the oven and took out the still slightly warm pie. He took out a plate and cut and overly large piece of pie, setting it in front of her with a grin.

“I still want to have some actual food, Oliver. This slice is enormous.”

He turned to the silverware drawer and took out two forks. “I didn’t have any pie, I thought you’d share with me.”

He laughed as she narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s rather sneaky, Oliver.” She took the offered fork, digging into the crust first, like she always had. “What if I didn’t want to share my pie with you?”

“Come on, you know you want to share your pie with me.”

Oliver saw another lovely blush stain her cheeks, even as she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Whatever Oliver.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, content to simply finish off the sweet dessert.

“So…why was Helena here?” Felicity asked as they finished their pie.

Oliver stood and walked to the stove, readying a plate of rosemary chicken, potatoes, and green beans for her. 

He set the plate before her and shrugged. “I don’t really know, but it was a good reminder that I need to change my gate code. Too many people have it any way.”

Felicity hummed and dug into her food. “What happened with you two, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Oliver sighed and sat back against the bar stool. “I don’t mind it’s just—I don’t know how to explain it. After my injury and my surgery, she wasn’t there. Not that she needed to rush over and see me, but when something happens to the person you’re in a relationship with, isn’t that important? Apparently not important enough to leave Central City a little earlier than she’d planned. Things had been off for a while, and so when we finally did talk, I told her it’d be best if we didn’t see each other any more. She didn’t fight it, didn’t question it, didn’t really even act like she was disappointed at all.” Oliver looked over at Felicity and shook his head. “Not that I wanted or expected her to breakdown and cause a scene, but—anyway. Then a few days later stuff about me popped up in the tabloids.”

“I’m sorry Oliver,” Felicity said, reaching her free hand over to rest on top of his.

He nodded, but didn’t speak. He watched her go back to finishing her meal, all the things he wanted to say swirling around his head, but now wasn’t the time. Now wasn’t the time to ask the only woman he’d truly given his whole heart to why she left.

And if she would leave him again. 


	5. Postoperative Weeks 17-22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father-daughter time, Oliver gets culled, an almost happy moment ruined, and a date.

“Got any fives?”

“Mmm, nope. Go fish.” 

“You're lying, aren't you?” 

Felicity rolled her eyes and poked lightly at her father's arm. 

“No, and that's not how this game works.” 

“Well, I'm an old man, sometimes I forget.” 

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Quentin smiled. “Your mom tell you I’m getting out of here tomorrow, if I have a good night tonight?”

Felicity nodded, concentrating a little too hard on the cards in her hand. This was her father’s third stay in the hospital since finishing chemotherapy. His oncologist grew increasingly concerned with each subsequent stay, and the overall state of Quentin’s health. Especially considering what it could mean for his ultimate prognosis. His last blood transfusion didn’t help his overall health the way they’d hoped with his overall white blood cell count remaining far too low. 

There’d even been talk of a bone marrow transplant, which at the moment was no more than speculation because he was too ill for surgery. 

“She did,” Felicity responded. “Got any aces?”

Quentin grumbled and handed over three aces, completing another book for Felicity. “It’s not nice to let a sick man lose, you know?”

Felicity’s eyes snapped up to his for a moment before looking back down at the cards in her hands. 

“Hey,” Quentin spoke as he laid a hand over hers. “I’m sorry for the joke, honey. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Felicity bit back a heated reply and continued to focus on her cards. Her mother and father kept saying that and it was beginning to grate at her. The casualness with which they were dealing with the Quentin’s declining health made her want to shake them both.

After his initial bout with the flu and three-day-stay in the ICU, he'd been admitted to the hospital two more times, each time serious and critical, though not quite as threatening as before. 

“Mom says you might be done with Queen earlier than expected,” Quentin said and Felicity was exceedingly happy for the subject change. 

“Yeah,” Felicity breathed out. “He's got his final appointment with Dr. Wilson today. He's up there now.” 

“Did you two come to the hospital together?” 

Felicity titled her head and smirked. “Ask what you want to ask, dad.” 

“Is he treating you right?” 

Felicity's brow furrowed, her mouth turning down in a small frown. “Yeah, he's been a great patient to work with. I don't have—” 

“I means as a boyfriend,” Quentin interrupted. 

Felicity shook her head. “We're not dating.” 

“Then why did your mother say you are?” 

“Wishful thinking?” 

Quentin huffed out a laugh and moved slowly to sit a little higher in the bed. Felicity set down her cards and helped him, adjusting the pillows to his liking. 

“I had to listen to her,” he began turning a piercing look at her. “I had to listen for an hour about how sweet it was he brought you to the hospital and how he stayed and how you haven't visited once without him here too. So, what's really going on, sweetheart?” 

“Nothing. Nothing is what's happening between me and Oliver. We're friends who do friendly things together. I mean—ugh, you know what I mean.” 

Quentin gave a wry grin, one she knew he used in interrogations, having seen it directed at Sara quite a few times. 

“Honey, it's okay to like this guy. He can't still be the same jackass kid I arrested, at least I hope not.” 

“No. No, not at all he's—” Felicity paused, a little smile breaking over her face as she tried to find the words. “He's a good man. He really cares about people and things. He was so upset the other day when we were working out.” Felicity picked her cards back up from the rolling table over her father's bed, moving to lean back in her chair. 

“His agent came over and dropped off some fan mail, and there were some letters from the Starling Youth Association. Apparently Oliver spends a good deal of the offseason there working with the kids, but he couldn't this year and some of the regulars were sad and missing him.” She laughed a lightly at the memory of a giddy Oliver opening up mail from the kids. “You should've seen some of the drawings and things they sent. They were so cute, and Oliver keeps them all.” 

She looked over at her father and saw that same penetrating gaze fixed on her. 

“Sweetheart...” Quentin began.

“Don’t,” Felicity interrupted.“Just don't, dad, I heard it, I know what it sounds like, but just, no. I made a decision years ago and I'm not going back on that.” 

“How long you gonna let the past keep you running, Felicity?” Quentin’s voice was low and a little husky.

She clenched her teeth together to halt the rush of tears she felt. 

“I'm not running. It's just—there aren't any—I don't feel like that, okay?” 

“You're a terrible liar Felicity. Always have been. It's a trait I wish Sara had picked up.” 

“Talking about me when I’m not even around to defend myself?” Sara’s voice called out from the door. Felicity felt her whole body relax, her shoulders releasing tension she didn’t even realize they held. 

Sara walked over to the other side of her father’s bed and dropped a quick kiss on his forehead. “Now,” she began, pulling a chair up to the bed. “What do you wish I’d picked up from Lissy, besides the usual of course?”

Felicity rolled her eyes and gave Sara a tender smile. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. It’s nothing.”

“Mhmm. Does it have anything to do with Ollie Queen, who is currently pacing in the hallway?” Sara asked, a broad grin alighting her face with mischief. 

“What?” Felicity stood quickly, throwing the cards in her hand down in a rush. She turned to the door before turning back again and pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Felicity missed the pointed look shared between the two remaining occupants of the room. 

Felicity walked down the hall seeing Oliver about to turn and complete a circuit back in her direction. Felicity bit her lip as she watched him speed up a little, a big, warm smile breaking over his face. He didn’t stop until she was in his arms, her feet off the ground, swinging her around once, then again.

“You did it,” he breathed against her ear, and she tried to concentrate on anything other than how good if felt to pressed against him, his lips brushing just below her ear lobe. “I’ve been cleared to play again.”

“Oh Oliver.” She continued to hold onto him tightly, not at all bothered that they were standing in the middle of a hospital hallway. “I’m so happy for you, but it’s all you. You’re the one who did it.”

“Felicity, please.” Oliver pulled back to look into her face. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. You thought I could do it, even when I was a jackass and wasn’t sure, you knew I could. I wouldn’t even have the possibility of playing this season if it hadn’t been for you.”

Felicity gasped when Oliver’s lips brushed against her forehead, trailing to her temple, completing the circuit at her cheek. He set her back on her feet, still leaning lightly against her.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he bent to whisper against her ear. “Not just for this, hardly even for this, but for everything, Felicity, you’re—” 

Felicity grasped his arms and turned to look at him as he paused, almost wishing she hadn’t. His eyes looked bluer and his focus on her made want to squirm. He was so close to her, his breath moving along her jaw, pausing just over her lips.

“Oliver,” she whispered just before his lips crashed over hers and for a moment, nothing else mattered. 

The sounds of the busy hospital around them faded away as he pulled her closer to him, tangling one hand in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back. She was surrounded by him—the heady scent that clung to him, that always seemed to stay with her when he wasn’t around. His stubble was rough and tickled beneath her bottom lip as he sucked and nipped at her.

Her hands held onto his shirt fiercely, wanting to draw him into her, to never let him go. She sighed against him and he groaned, his tongue slipping between her parted lips. She made the sound again to see what he would do and was rewarded with a kiss that sent her body into overdrive. 

The rush of awareness that went through her made her shake. The press of Oliver’s warm body against hers had her knees weak.

She didn’t know how long they were there, how many times they pulled apart, breathing against one another’s lips before diving back in, each kiss growing more and more intense. 

“Yeah, you really can’t use the just friends excuse anymore,” Sara’s voice broke into the haze the surrounded Felicity. 

Felicity moved her head back from Oliver’s, his eyes still closed, mouth open and damp. She closed her eyes and counted to three before opening them again. Oliver stared down at her, pupils blown, his tongue running across his bottom lip. He hadn’t released her. Hadn’t stepped back from her. 

She let her hands fall from his shirt before turning toward Sara whose face beamed with devilish glee. 

“Is everything alright?” Felicity asked, but her voice sounded shaky and too breathy. 

“Oh yeah,” Sara spoke casually, hitching a finger over her shoulder. “Dad was just asking about you. Wanted to make sure ‘that Queen kid’ wasn’t trying to take you away too soon, though obviously you two have some things to—”

“Sara,” Felicity interrupted. “I’ll be back in a moment, tell dad that—”

“Nope, he said to come back and bring your boyfriend with you.”

“Sara—”

“Oh come on Lis, it’ll be fun. I’m sure Ollie can take it. Can’t you, Ollie?” Sara finished with a wink.

Oliver cleared his throat and gently removed his hand from Felicity’s hair, letting his fingers trail down her spine. Felicity shivered and looked up to see a broad smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” he said, winking down at Felicity. “I can take it.”

* * *

Oliver paused at the door to Quentin Lance’s room, taking a deep breath before following Felicity in. She held his hand, which he would’ve enjoyed, but her grip was so tight the he started to lose feeling in the tips of his fingers.

He placed his other hand over their combined hands, fingers sliding beneath hers. He felt her grip ease up as she threw a small smile over her shoulder.

The man lying in the hospital bed was unrecognizable to him. Even though it’d been many years since Oliver had been arrested by Quentin Lance, some things stick, and Oliver was sure he’d never forget Quentin Lance. He looked small against the backdrop of the stark white sheets and towering machines doing various functions. 

The hospital bed was angled, so that the first thing Oliver saw when he looked at the man was a disapproving look shot toward his mid chest.

Oliver quickly glanced at Felicity, which proved to be a bad idea. Her lips were glossy and plump, and she bit at the bottom one, drawing attention to the red skin beneath it. 

Oliver moved his eyes back to the bed and cleared his throat. “Detective Lance.”

“Queen,” Quentin’s voice wasn’t strong, but Oliver still heard the undeniable steel in it. 

“Lis,” Sara began, walking toward Felicity. “Let’s go for a food run. I’m starving, and dad didn’t eat his food like he was supposed to.”

“No, I think that—”

“Please honey.” Quentin smiled in her direction and it immediately made Oliver nervous. “I’d really like some Thai from that place we like so much that’s just around the corner. I promise, I’ll be nice to your boyfriend.”

“Dad—”

“Let’s go, Lissy.” Sara grabbed Felicity’s arm and pulled her toward the door. Oliver turned quickly and stopped them.

“Here.” He took the keys to his Land Rover out of his pocket, handing them over to Felicity. He loved the way her eyes went hazy and unfocused as their fingers brushed against one another. “Take my car.”

Felicity started to speak, but Sara cut across her. 

“You’re a brave man, Ollie Queen. Let’s go.”

Oliver stood for a moment, watching the empty doorway before turning to look at Quentin. 

“Sit down, Queen,” Quentin spoke gruffly, wheezing a little as he shifted himself in the bed. 

Oliver followed instructions and sat down at Quentin’s bedside. He did his best to keep his eyes focused on the man, but it was difficult to see a man he’d known—though not in the best of circumstances—so altered. 

“So you and Felicity, huh?” Quentin set his eyes on Oliver who did his utmost not to squirm under his gaze. 

“I’m—I’m not sure. That is to say, we haven’t really discussed anything.”

“But that’s what you want this time around?”

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“No it isn’t,” Quentin scoffed. “I remember the years where Felicity wasn’t here. You and that stupid Merlyn kid getting into all sorts of trouble. The NFL almost had your ass for that drunk driving incident, didn’t they?”

Oliver winced. He tried to keep that memory at bay as best that he could. “Yeah, they did. But I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. And I’ve always cared about Felicity. I always will. She’s—”

Oliver had to stop and collect his thoughts. He certainly wasn’t going to admit something to Felicity’s father before he admitted it to her. 

“You know,” Oliver started, lifting his head to meet Quentin’s eye again. “I didn’t even know her mother had gotten remarried until she started as my therapist. I’ve missed so much. I don’t want to miss anymore, and I think—I hope that she feels the same way.”

“I don’t particularly care for you, Queen.” 

Oliver felt his shoulders sag and he nodded. He would be utterly surprised if the man did like him.

“But, I trust Felicity’s judgement,” Quentin added hesitantly. “She’s smarter than the both of us, and she’d kick my ass if she heard me, but I’ve got to let you know, I may not be in the best of shape right now, but if you manage to hurt her again like before, there’s nothing that would stop me from making you pay for that. Got it?”

Oliver nodded his head and sighed. “I don’t know what happened before.”

“What?” Quentin asked giving him a incredulous look. “What do you mean?”

Oliver shrugged. “I mean, fifteen years ago, I don’t know what happened. It was two weeks before the end of senior year and I went over to Felicity’s to listen to her valedictorian speech, and she told me we should go for a walk. And she broke up with me, and I didn’t really understand why. I still don’t. I remember her saying that high school was one thing, but college was another and that she’d decided to go out east for school. She just said it wouldn’t work, but I still think—I don’t understand. I was never happier than when I was with her.”

Quentin’s mouth opened, but he closed it fast. “I think you two need to talk about what happened.”

“You know why it happened, don’t you?” Oliver didn’t need to ask, he could see it in Quentin’s expression, his face covered in something that looked like disbelief and pity.

“Yeah, Felicity isn’t the kind of person to just let things go. She was carrying a lot around with her when I met her mom.” Quentin had to pause for a moment and catch his breath. He let out a rattling cough, waving away Oliver’s attempt at assistance. “It wasn’t easy at the start. Felicity saw plenty of men come and go in her mom’s life, so she was pretty protective. She’d already finished undergrad and was moving back west to go to PT school. God, Donna’s so proud of her, and rightfully so.” 

Quentin’s face softened as he talked about Felicity, and it made Oliver feel a little out of place, and a little jealous. Here was a man that didn’t have any blood tie to Felicity, but it was so clear, so obvious that he loved her very much. Oliver knew that his parents cared about him, but very rarely had he ever seen it quite so clearly. 

“Felicity holds a lot of herself back from—well—everything really. She became so focused on work and school after high school, which is every parent’s dream, but Donna said that whatever happened really took a toll on her. She’s not as open as she once was.”

Oliver sat back heavily in the chair. “That I do know. Felicity hardly spoke to me at all when she first moved in. I practically had to beg her to be my friend, and now…”

Oliver imagined the look that would cross Quentin’s face if he told him about kissing Felicity in the hallway. He was already worried. They didn’t get a chance to discuss what it meant, and he had a feeling that Felicity might try to brush it aside. To make it seem like something that came out of his excitement in the moment as opposed to something he’d wanted to do since the moment she’d walked backed into his life. 

He didn’t want her to think that it meant less than everything. 

“Now what?” Quentin asked, breaking Oliver from his thoughts. 

“Now I don’t know,” Oliver replied. “But I’m unwilling to watch her walk out of my life again.”

Quentin nodded his head. He reached for the pack of cards on hospital table between them. “Just promise me something, Queen.”

Oliver watched the man take the cards out of the pack and shuffle them slowly. “What?”

“When you two actually talk—listen, and don’t bullshit her. She’ll be able to see right through that.”

“Yeah.”

“Now,” Quentin spoke, dealing out the cards. “I hope you’re a better card player than you are football player.”

Oliver bit back a reply and gave Quentin a wan smile. 

* * *

The rough fabric of her jeans against her fingers helped her settle into the moment. Oliver hadn’t spoken a word to her since leaving the hospital. Granted, she hadn’t been interested in saying much either. The silence around them wasn’t easy like it’d been not too long ago. This silence had charge—weight. This silence spoke more than either of them had to each other.

Felicity sighed and kept her attention on the passing scenery. She appreciated the towering buildings juxtaposed with the tiny neighborhood parks. The lush greenery that surrounded the city really did make Starling a gem. 

A chill hit her and she shivered in the seat, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Are you cold?” Oliver asked, his voice breaking into the heavy silence. 

“No,” Felicity whispered. “Thank you. Just caught a chill.”

Felicity watched his hand go to the thermostat anyway, turning it up just enough so the air in the car wasn’t so cool. 

“Are we not going to talk about what happened?” Oliver asked.

Felicity lowered her head, and held onto her arms tighter. She shook her head and turned her attention back out to the road. “It’s alright, Oliver. There’s really nothing to talk about. You were excited to be cleared to play again, and it was my job to help you. And I’m really excited for you, too. It doesn’t have to make things awkward between us—well more awkward, since this right here is awkward. But it shouldn’t be. It doesn’t have to be. We’re two adults who kissed in the middle of a hospital corridor. Both of our emotions were running high and it just ended in the most cliched way possible. I’m really okay, and you should be, too. I mean, you shouldn’t feel guilty or anything.”

Felicity turned her head to look at him. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight, he’d probably have indentations in the palms of his hands. His breathing was high and shallow, and he shook his head a little. 

“I don’t know how else to do this, but to say it,” Oliver began, not taking his eyes off the road. “But I meant to kiss you. It wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you walked into my hospital room.”

“Oliver—”

“No, you got to spout out whatever nonsense it is that you believe, but I’ve never had the chance to tell you what you mean to me. Not now, not fifteen years ago, but I’m not willing to wait another fifteen years to tell you that I—”

“Oliver!” Felicity exclaimed, grabbing his arm as he made the turn onto his street which was now lined with news vans, cameras, individuals holding microphones and running towards his Land Rover. 

“What the hell?” Oliver braked suddenly. Felicity’s seatbelt cut into her collarbone a little, making her wince. 

“Do you think they found out about you being cleared to play again?”

Oliver turned and shook his head at her. “I very much doubt that something like that would cause this sort of reaction. I haven’t even done anything lately.”

Oliver drove carefully through the throng of news outlets, most of whom were shouting at the car, the flash of cameras startling and annoying to drive through.

“I forgot how terrible this is,” Oliver muttered. “Keep your head down, looking directly in the flashes will leave you disoriented.”

Felicity followed his instructions, keeping her head down and her body angled away from the door. When they reached his gate, they had a moment of reprieve before he parked and they exited the car to shouted questions.”

_“Did you know she had a son with your father, Ollie? Was it a family thing?”_

_“Oliver is it true you paid of Isabel Rochev to keep quiet?”_

_“Oliver is the blond your new girl? Do you share her with your father as well?”_

Felicity’s mouth dropped open and she tried to ignore the shouts as Oliver pulled her quickly behind him to the house.

He slammed the door forcefully, the sound jarring in the stillness of the house. Felicity watched Oliver pace away from her, his cellphone already out and pressed to his ear. 

The ringing of Felicity’s phone jarred her from staring after Oliver’s retreating form. She exhaled as she answered.

“Iris, what’s—”

“Fe, are you alright? Are you with Oliver right now? If you are, you need to turn on TMZ—now.”

“We just made it through a barrage of reporters outside. They were shouting something about Isabel Rochev. Who is that?”

“What do you mean, who is that? Felicity, she was Robert Queen’s mistress.”

“Oh,” Felicity said slowly, until it dawned on her. “Oh! Is she…I mean…is that the woman—” 

“That you caught with Robert Queen? Yeah, one in the same. You never knew her name?”

Felicity shook her head, then responded. “No, I—I never knew her name. How do you know she’s the same person?”

“Felicity,” Iris spoke, her tone exasperated. “I’m a reporter. You know I couldn’t stop until I knew, and my asshole co-worker said that Isabel and Robert had been in a relationship for years. Didn’t take much deduction on my part to figure out the rest.”

“Okay. So what does any of this have to do with Oliver?”

“Apparently, Oliver had some sort of relationship with her five years ago.”

Felicity’s legs shook and she felt the wall against her back, her head resting back against it. “What?”

“Felicity, go find Oliver,” Iris said firmly. “Ask him yourself what happened. There’s a lot of speculation going on right now, and I’m certainly not one to give false information. You know this.”

“Right,” Felicity said as she levered herself off the floor. “Right. He didn’t know what his father was.”

“Yeah,” Iris responded. “But you did, remember? Fe, promise me you’ll tell him what you knew.”

“No way, Iris. Now is definitely not the time for that.”

“Now is the time for that, Felicity. Do you want him to find out some other way that you—”

“Now is not the time at all for Oliver to know anything about my knowledge of his father, Iris. Period,” Felicity spoke firmly. “I don’t want Oliver to think I had any part in this mess.”

“He wouldn’t think that, Felicity. But the longer you keep the truth from him, the harder things are going to be for you two in the future.”

“What future?” Felicity shook her head, closing her eyes to take a deep breath. “I’ll call you later, Iris.”

“Okay. I love you, Fe.”

“Love you, too.”

Felicity ended the call and took a moment before moving through the house. There were covered dishes on the stove that smelled of apricot and lemon. If Felicity opened up the oven, she knew she’d probably find another of Elena’s fruit pies, but her stomach roiled at the thought of food.

She walked through the kitchen to the living room, finding Oliver sitting with his head in his hands, his phone chiming continuously beside him on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she said softly, perching beside him on the couch. She reached a hand out to touch him, but thought better of it, letting it fall between them. “Iris said that TMZ has some—”

“Yeah,” he responded shortly. “My PR guy just let me know all about that. I really don’t need to watch TMZ as well.”

“Okay.”

Oliver sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault. I’m not angry at you.”

“It’s alright, Oliver. Whatever is going on—”

“No, Felicity, it’s not alright.” The look on his face when his eyes met hers made her stomach sink. She’d never seen him look so lost. “I did a dumb thing. I was still very much Ollie Queen five years ago—reckless, out for the fastest thrill and things came easy—too easy. I never really had to try, women constantly threw themselves at me and it was—”

He paused and grabbed her hand that rested between them. His hands were warm against hers and rough. She watched him turn her hand over and trace nonsensical patterns over her palm. It made her shiver and wish that it was happening in a different moment.

“She wasn’t like all the other women. Or so I thought. Such a stupid thing to think, really. She was a doctor and didn’t hang out at the places the team usually went, she wasn’t vying for my attention and I liked the idea that she was a little unattainable. It didn’t even last a month, and it was pretty much purely sex. She invited me to her house one day and that’s when I saw him.”

“Saw who?” Felicity asked, watching his shoulders sag.

Oliver took a deep breath. “My half-brother. God he looked just like I did when I was his age.” 

Oliver took his hands from hers, and bent over to rest his forearms on his thighs. His back moved up and down rapidly, his head buried in his hands.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, placing a hand on his back to try to sooth him. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t matter, Felicity,” he said with a roar, shooting up off the couch to pace before it. “That doesn’t matter to the press, or to my PR guy, or to any of the trashy news media outlets. All that matters is that I had an affair with a woman who’s son is my fathers. Do you know how sick that makes me feel? How awful? I didn’t know the man I spent years looking up to, wanting to make proud, wanting to be like was really just another cheating husband and deadbeat dad. Did you know that he’s never seen his son with Isabel? When she told him that she was pregnant he told her that he didn’t want anything else to do with her. So she sought her revenge through me.”

“So, she’s the one who sold this story, you think?”

Oliver shook his head. “Isabel Rochev is a lot of things, but she cares about that little boy. She wouldn’t subject him to this. Now me and my father? She would gladly throw us under the bus. I—I wasn’t a good guy in my relationship with her—if you can ever call it that. She definitely wasn’t the only woman I saw that month.”

Felicity looked away from him and down at her lap. She ignored the memory that tried to claw its way forward—of discovering Isabel and Robert in his study, of the threatening words Robert spoke to her, of his menacing certainty that “_Queen men have trouble being faithful, Felicity. One day you’ll come to find that out_.”

“Felicity,” Oliver sounded ragged and weary. “Please believe me when I tell you that I’m not that guy anymore. And I don’t ever want to be that guy again, Felicity, you have to—”

“That’s not relevant right now, Oliver,” she stated, not wanting to dredge up the feelings that were so near the surface. “You need to figure out how this story got out. Who knew that this happened?”

Oliver stared at her for a beat, his mouth opening and closing dumbly. “Uh…only Isabel and Digg, but Digg would never, I know he would never.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Felicity nodded and stood. She looked back at Oliver’s phone which hadn’t stopped lighting up. “You going to get any of those?”

He shook his head and watched her closely. He took a few steps until he stood directly in front of her, looking down into her face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Felicity tilted her head up and tried to ignore the need stirring in her belly to kiss him. 

“They’re probably going to tear you apart,” he said. “The press. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I never wanted or could’ve imagined this happening now, I—”

“Oliver. Take the blame where it’s due, the rest is not your fault. That includes starting a relationship—whatever that might’ve entailed—with a woman who’d been involved with your father. How were you supposed to know that?”

_You could’ve said something years ago, maybe helped him avoid this mess_. 

Felicity shook her head as if to dislodge that thought. Iris’ voice rang heavy through her, but now wasn’t the time. It wasn’t even close to the time.

“Let’s eat some of what Elena made, and—you should call Digg.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “Not because I think he had anything to do with this, but because he’s your friend. And he knows about this. And you need someone on your side.”

“Are you on my side?” he asked softly, his tone nearly breaking her heart. 

Felicity nodded and stepped into him, placing a hand on his arm. “Call John.”

* * *

Felicity found herself on the other end of a fierce embrace from a woman who’d been just a little girl when she’d known her.

“Thea, I think Felicity would like to breathe,” Diggle spoke from behind the two women. Felicity shot him a grateful look when Thea dislodged herself and ran past her into the house. 

“How did—”

“I told Oliver I’d go get her. Thea and her parents have a tenuous enough relationship without adding all of this mess to it.”

A woman standing next to Diggle cleared her throat.

“I was going to get there, Lyla, I swear.” He placed a gentle hand on the woman’s back beside him. “Felicity, this is my wife, Lyla. Lyla, Felicity Smoak. Er, Dr. Felicity Smoak. Sorry.”

Felicity waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it.” She extended her hand to meet the other woman’s. “It’s really nice to meet you, Lyla.”

“Same to you, Felicity, although I wish it’d been at a nice dinner instead of these circumstances.” Lyla held an air of authority around her that permeated the space. Felicity immediately felt calmer in her presence. “I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”

“Same,” Felicity responded. “John you should probably…” she pointed over her shoulder toward the living room.

“On it.” Diggle leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek and then left the two women standing together in Oliver’s foyer. 

“Any ideas on who could’ve sold this story?” Lyla asked, not bothering to mince words. Felicity smiled at the women; she bet Lyla and Iris would get along swimmingly. 

Felicity nodded and walked in the direction of the kitchen. “I do.”

“Who?”

“Oliver’s ex-girlfriend Helena, but a lot of it doesn’t add up to me. I mean, how would she have known about this woman and Oliver’s father?”

Lyla hummed in agreement. “I only met Helena once. She didn’t seem very nice, but it was after a game where the guys had lost. No one was in the best of moods.”

Felicity’s eyes trailed over to the living room where Thea sat with her head on her brother’s shoulder, John sitting directly in front of them both, perched on the coffee table. 

“It just doesn’t seem right,” Lyla continued. “Johnny told me on the way over here that Oliver didn’t know about Isabel and his father, and Johnny has good instincts about people, so I believe him. He and Oliver butted heads quite a lot when they first joined The Archers. But eventually, they got close, and then after the whole Isabel situation, Oliver changed. I didn’t know Oliver well before, but even I could see a marked difference. His time in the tabloids lessened significantly. No more public intoxication, no more women hanging all over it. It really shook him. It just doesn’t seem fair that the press would be all over him for something he didn’t knowingly do.”

Felicity continued to stare at the scene before her. Lyla made a good point, but what could they do?

“PR is not my area of expertise,” Lyla remarked, walking over to the stove and sniffing. “But, should he say something, or would that make it worse?”

Felicity shrugged. “I’m as clueless about PR as you are, and I don’t know that anything Oliver has to say will be believed.”

Thea came bounding into the kitchen, stopping short in front of the two women just as Felicity finished speaking. 

“But you believe him, don’t you, Felicity?” Thea asked. 

“Of course I do, Thea.”

Thea nodded and walked closer to Felicity, hugging her tightly again. The light amber and gardenia scent of Thea’s perfume surrounded Felicity for a moment. 

“My brother really cares about you,” Thea said as she pulled back. “Please don’t let this idiocy of his past stop you two from finally being happy.”

“Thea, there isn’t anything—”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Thea’s voice was small and low. “I’ve apparently been living in a house with two people who were more than happy to lie to me for years. You know my mom knew about dad. About his relationship with some of the interns at the hospital,” Thea paused for a moment and scoffed. Felicity could see the strain on her face. 

“Apparently Isabel wasn’t the only one,” Thea continued, “but she was the longest relationship. I heard them arguing when I left. Thanks for picking me up, by the way,” Thea directed at Lyla. “I don’t know if I said that already.”

“Wasn’t necessary,” Lyla replied, smiling at the younger woman. 

Thea smiled and turned her attention back to Felicity. “You don’t seem all that surprised by all of this.”

Felicity shrugged, looking away from Thea. “I’ve had a little while to get used to it, I guess.”

“I hope you won’t break up with Oliver because of this.”

“We’re not dating.”

Thea leveled a look at Felicity. 

“I’m not lying to you, Thea. Your brother and I aren’t together like that. Or like anything. At all. We’re friends.”

“Friends who kiss in hospital hallways?”

Felicity looked at her sharply. “What? How do you know about that?”

The corners of Thea’s mouth lifted a little, and her face got a little brighter. “It’s all over TMZ. Some hospital staff member apparently took a video with their phone. I only watched it once, it’s kind of weird to watch my brother make out with someone, but any way, it didn’t look like a ‘just friends’ kiss.”

“Oh god,” Felicity groaned and leaned back against the center island. “That’s the last thing your brother needs. He’s already worried about what the press might do to me. Please don’t tell him.”

“Too late.” Thea grimaced. “I think there’s been enough secrets for a while, don’t you?”

Oliver and Diggle trailed into the kitchen—Oliver looking more defeated than she’d ever seen him. 

“There’s peach pie in the oven,” Felicity said as she wandered toward Oliver. “Pie helps things.”

He smiled down at her, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. She didn’t turn into his hand like she wanted to, and tamped down the desire to reach up and kiss him. He didn’t need that from her, or want it probably.

“You’re right. Pie does help things.”

* * *

Oliver felt numb and empty. Under normal circumstances, he would worry about feeling nothing. Not even watching his sister interact with Felicity and Lyla could warm him through. 

How long would he be haunted by a past that shamed him? How many more years, how many more people, would have to suffer because he made dumb mistakes? 

“I'm not joining your pity party, man,” Diggle said as he sidled up beside Oliver. “This isn't your fault.” 

“I really wish people would stop saying that. If it's not my fault, then whose is it?” 

“Probably Helena's.” Diggle shrugged. “I never cared for that one.” 

Oliver made a sound and shook his head. “Helena didn't make me do any of the things I did. And if this was her, how did she find out?” 

“Maybe she and Isabel were in it together.” 

Oliver shook his head again. Many words could describe Isabel, but mercenary didn't quite fit the bill. But maybe something had changed. 

“Maybe,” he said aloud. “I don't know, Digg, but I think I've messed up any chance I might've had with Felicity.” 

“How do you figure?” Digg asked sincerely. 

“We—Felicity and I—we sort of...we had a moment this morning and I thought that things between us were finally going to change and that we would make this attraction between us something, but then this happened.” 

Silence surrounded the two for a beat before Oliver looked over at his friend. Diggle stared across the way at the three chatting women whose heads we're bent together. 

“Is it only attraction, Oliver?” Diggle asked. 

Oliver gritted his teeth. “You know it isn't.” 

“Well,” Diggle responded, “Do you think Felicity knows that?” 

Oliver's mouth opened to say ‘yes,’ but shut it firmly after realizing he couldn’t really be sure. 

The lingering looks and heated glances, the barely there touches and leaning in a little too close—obvious signs of attraction—were pretty hard to miss. But did they go any deeper for her? 

“You know I love her.” 

“Yeah, I know, and you know, but does she know?” Diggle's tone held little patience, and Oliver could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard that tone from Diggle. 

“I get it, John. I'm an idiot.” 

“Probably, but it's refreshing to see you uncomfortable at something.” 

Oliver scoffed. “You've seen me uncomfortable at a lot of things.” 

“Yeah, but this one matters.” 

“She could barely even look at me, man,” Oliver spoke. He heard the slight whine in his tone but did nothing to correct it. “And she hasn’t really—I mean, we haven’t spoken about it. Just sort of around it. I tried to tell her I’m not still that guy and she just—” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “She ignored it. Like she didn’t believe me or thinks I’m still that guy. And now I feel like I definitely can’t say any of the things I need to say when she’ll barely look me in the eye for longer than necessary.”

“Well,” Diggle began, “I guess that just means you’re going to have to work for something for a change.”

“How is any of this helpful?” Oliver asked petulantly.

“Man, I’ve told you, I don’t know how many times, to talk to her. With her, not at her, or around the situation, but actually sit down like grown-ups and talk. She’s been living in your house for five months, what do you know about her?”

Oliver leaned heavily against the counter, his fingers trailing across the cold marble. What did he actually know about Felicity now? He hadn’t known her mother got remarried until his mother said something. He found out about her dad’s cancer the same way, but beyond that, it was just assumptions that the same girl from fifteen years ago was fundamentally the same woman who’d been in his home for months. 

“This whole time she’s been here, helping you, in your house, have you actually taken the time to get to know her?” Diggle pushed on. “I mean, you were there for her through all the stuff with her dad, but she probably just thinks you were being a good friend. You’ve given her no indication that you want something more than that, Oliver,” Diggle finished, arm crossed staring Oliver down. 

Diggle remained one of the few people that could make Oliver feel small—both in stature and in countenance; but he knew Diggle didn’t do it out of cruelty. 

“So, what now?”

“Have you been listening at all?” Diggle said through gritted teeth. “Are you sure you didn’t injure your brain as well as your knee? Talk to her. Have the hard conversations that you two have been avoiding for fifteen years. Ask her out to dinner. Do something to make her believe that you really care about her beyond something quick and easy.”

Oliver shot Diggle a look. “She’s not just some random girl.”

“Then stop treating her like one.”

* * *

“It's not a problem, Thea. You're always welcome to stay here, you know that. Just call mom. I know she's worried.” 

Thea rolled her eyes at Oliver. “I'm sure she's not. Those two liars deserve one another.” 

Oliver and Thea sat out on the patio overlooking his backyard. It was still hot out, the air sticky and damp, but the smell of honeysuckle seemed to linger. It made Oliver yearn for Felicity—to sit with her here, tucked under his arm, her head resting against his chest as he breathed her in. He practically ached with the desire. She’d left the house with Diggle and Lyla, thinking it would be better for their press situation. He’d wanted to ask her no to leave, beg her to stay and talk to him, but she’d shied away from him when he’d moved closer to him, her eyes finding the ground rather than meeting his. It had hurt a lot, but he hadn’t made a scene, just watched her go. 

Even though he knew it was temporary, watching her leave still stung.

“I—” Oliver continued, shaking his head. “I really don't know how to respond to that.” 

“You know I'm annoyed at you, too, right?” Thea asked, her voice low.

Oliver's shoulder fell and he tipped his head down just a little. Remembering his sister was no longer a little girl didn’t negate the need to protect her from a lot of things. 

“You didn’t deserve to think any less of dad, Thea,” Oliver replied, looking over at his sister. The hurt on her face was so clear and obvious it made him ache.

“And you did?” Thea threw her hands up in the air. “Do you like carrying this stuff around all by yourself? Shouldering the weight and the burden of things that aren’t your fault? Yes, Ollie, you did a dumb thing. Your life sort of went of the rails after Felicity left, but you made those choices, so yes, take responsibility for them. But you don’t need to bear the weight of dad’s burdens, too. He made his own decisions. I’m not a child, Ollie.”

“I know, Thea,” he said sincerely, getting out of his chair and pulling Thea into him for a hug. “But you’ll always be my baby sister and I’ll always do whatever’s necessary to protect you. Trust me, knowing this about dad when you were eighteen and wild wouldn’t have done you any good.”

“I wasn’t wild, Ollie.”

“You were, Thea, not at all helped by me, of course. I couldn’t risk anything putting you in more danger.” 

Thea nodded against his chest and held onto him tighter. “Let’s just try to keep the lies at a minimum for a while, yeah? I’m an adult, Ollie. I can take it. Let me share some things with you, alright?”

Oliver placed a kiss on the top of Thea’s head and continued to hug her. “I’ll try, Speedy.”

“Ugh.” She pushed back against him with a groan. “Now, tell me about you and Felicity.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I should’ve guessed it wouldn’t be that simple.” He sat back down in his seat, doing his best to ignore Thea’s pointed stare. 

“Ollie.” Thea grinned widely at him, her whole countenance shifting from earlier. “That woman is crazy about you.”

“Thea—”

“Hear me out, alright?” she interrupted. “You care about her, a lot. It’s written all over your dumb face, but Felicity is much more subtle.”

Oliver snorted. “Yeah, so subtle that I’m pretty sure you’re not right.”

“Ollie, she was really concerned about you. About what all of this could mean, about protecting you. She left here tonight so it wouldn’t make things look any worse.”

“I wish she hadn’t,” he whispered.

“I know, but she asked me and Lyla what we thought, and we figured it was a good idea. She’s at Iris’. You know, they have these things called telephones. You could always call her up.”

“And say what?”

Thea sighed. “God, John is right. You are an idiot.”

“Hey!” Oliver exclaimed, pushing Thea’s shoulder. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I will always be on your side, Ollie. And because of that, I’m always going to tell you when you’re being an idiot. Like now. Lucky for you, I’m also going to help you.”

“Oh god, Thea. Fine, if I accept your help, then you have to tell me what’s going one with you and Harper.”

Thea threw a baleful look his way. “You sure you want to go there, Ollie?”

“Maybe not.”

* * *

The smell of burnt popcorn permeated the air, but neither Iris nor Felicity cared. Iris dug her toes into the side of Felicity's thigh as they giggled under the influence of wine. 

“Your life is like the greatest soap opera, ever,” Iris said, leaning over to grab a handful of popcorn. 

“You’re a terrible friend, Iris West.”

Iris gasped with faux indignation. “Now we both know that’s not true, Smoak. I’m just…you know, the two of you are really a match made in ‘let’s-ignore-things-until-they-blow-up-in-our-faces’ heaven.”

Felicity threw a kernel of popcorn at her friend and turned back to the screen. 

“Think about how much money you'd have, Fe, if you and Oliver had a reality TV show.” 

Felicity screwed up her face is disgust. “No thanks. The low rent Kardashians are bad enough. Besides,” Felicity sighed and scooted down on the couch. “Nothing interesting enough happened with me and Oliver.” 

Iris snorted, then laughed, a full laugh that echoed around her living room. “The sex between you two is—” 

“There hasn't been any sex, Iris. There isn't going to be any, either.” 

“Smoak, this is me you're talking to.” Iris leaned forward to snag her wine glass off the coffee table. “One lunch and a few moments at a party, and I can see it. There's so much sexual tension between the two of you it's ridiculous. You two should just kiss or fuck already. Or both.” 

Felicity felt the heat lick its way up her neck, and into her cheeks. 

“Felicity Megan Smoak, what haven't you told me?” 

“Ugh,” Felicity moaned and dropped her head into her free hand. She rubbed her already throbbing temple and rolled her shoulders. “We kissed earlier today.” 

Iris' mouth dropped open. “How is that not the first thing you said to me when you got here?” 

“Because the first thing you said is ‘I have wine open.’” 

“Touché. Then it should've quickly followed your first glass of wine. When? Where? How was it?” 

Felicity pulled her legs up on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her before fixing her gaze on Iris. “This morning. At the hospital, after he found out he'd been cleared to play again. And it was—” Felicity tilted her head back to keep the tears that threatened at bay. “It was perfect.” 

“You've got it bad.” 

Felicity laughed and saluted Iris with her glass. “Yes, I admit, I'm attracted to Oliver Queen. Happy?” 

Iris frowned at her friend. She leaned forward again to set her wine glass down. Iris took both of Felicity's hands in her own and squeezed them tight. 

“Felicity, we both know that's not all there is to this. You've been attracted to lots of men in your life, none of whom have affected you like Oliver.” 

“So?” 

“So? Don't you think this is a little more than attraction?” 

“No,” Felicity exclaimed, shooting up from the couch. “No. This is simple and easy and I'm moving out of his house soon so it won't matter. We never ran into each other before, we have no reason to run into each other in the future. I don't mind being attracted to Oliver, I'd probably have to be dead not to be, but nothing else is going to happen, Iris. He doesn't want it, and more importantly, neither do I.” 

“Oh, Fe,” Iris paused a little before continuing. “I know you think you know what you happened, but—” 

“I saw it, Iris. I saw the two of them with my own eyes. And Robert, he told me, and I didn't listen because...it doesn't matter. Oliver may be a different man now, but I don't know that I can put my heart back on the line, Iris. I won't do it. I won't be crushed again.” 

Iris sighed and threw up her hands. “Okay, I just think you're making a mistake, Felicity.” 

“And I thank you for always being honest with me. You're the best friend a girl could ask for.” 

Iris beamed. “You bet your cute ass I am!” She patted the couch beside her, and Felicity resumed her seat. “So how long can I expect you to be my roomie?” 

“A couple of days, maybe a little longer. Are you sure it's okay? My place was surrounded by paparazzi when we drove by.” 

“Of course it's alright, Fe. You're always welcome here.” 

Felicity cleared her throat. “Are you sure Mr. Allen won't mind?” 

“Yeah.” Iris rolled her eyes and flicked Felicity in the side lightly. “You're not cramping my style. Besides, I can just hang a tie or play some loud music or something when he comes over.” 

“Gross.” 

The women laughed together, their voices pinging around the space, filling it with warmth and life. 

Iris' ringing cellphone broke into the moment. She leaned back trying to reach her phone without having to move. She just managed to get to it and answer before it stopped ringing. 

“Iris West.” 

“Hey, Iris, it's Oliver. Queen.” 

“Oliver Queen.” 

Felicity's head snapped up and her eyebrows furrowed. She moved closer to her friend, pushing Iris' legs from the couch in order to sidle up beside her. 

“How'd you get my number, Ollie?” 

“Barry. Please don't be mad at him," Oliver responded, sounding rushed and worried. “Felicity's phone isn't on and I knew she was with you, but I didn't have your number and I didn't want to raise any additional suspicion today, so—” 

“It's fine, Ollie. Why are you calling for Felicity?” 

Felicity shook her head and tried to put her head beside Iris' only to be pushed away. 

“I need to ask her something,” Oliver whispered. “I—Thea, quit it—” 

“Iris? Hey, it's Thea,” the young woman said unnecessarily. 

Iris held in a laugh as she heard Oliver muttering in the background. 

“What's up, Thea?” 

“My idiot brother wants to ask Felicity out on a date, but he's stalling, so I'm helping speed things along.” 

“What is going on?” Felicity mouthed to Iris. 

Iris held up a finger and moved off the couch. “And where does your idiot brother want to take Felicity on said date?” 

Felicity's mouth dropped open and she shot off the couch, moving toward Iris. Iris laughed and ran down the hall toward her bedroom. She beat Felicity into her room by a hair. Iris only felt marginally bad for slamming the door on her best friend. 

“Ollie, where are you planning to have this dinner?” Thea's voice grew distant and a little muffled. “He said Table Salt, but that seems too—” 

“Public?” Iris interjected. 

“Yes. I told him he picked the wrong time to man up, but anyway. The press is already all over the two of them it doesn’t seem like a great idea to go out somewhere, but I just know he’ll chicken out if he doesn’t ask her out soon.” Thea replied. 

Iris bit back a giggle as she heard Oliver arguing with Thea in the background again.

“Yes,” Iris spoke as she paced a little in front of her bed. “Well, how about at my place? It’s super private, good security, and no press has caught wind of it yet, so, as long as Ollie can be discreet coming into the building, it should work out fine.”

“I like the way you think, West,” Thea replied. Iris could Oliver in the background asking what was going on.

“Good, I’ll get Felicity, and put her on the line.” 

“Alright,” Thea replied. “I’m gonna put on Ollie. Let's see if we can coach them through this moment.” 

“I like the way you think, Thea.” 

Iris pulled the door open and Felicity almost felt into her. She shoved her phone in Felicity's hand and pointed at it. 

“Oliver wants to talk to you.” 

* * *

“Hello?” Oliver's hesitant voice rang out through the phone. 

“Hey,” Felicity replied, happy that he couldn't see her in the moment. She paced in front of Iris' bed, her hands clammy and shaking. “What's up?” 

“Uh, I just wanted to check and make sure you're okay—ow! Damn it, Thea.” 

Felicity giggled and looked at Iris who leaned in the doorframe. 

“Also,” Oliver continued. “I called to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime maybe?” 

“Oh.” Felicity let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. “Um…” she trailed off looking over at Iris who stood in the doorway with a broad smile on her face. “Sure. I mean. If you want.”

“Yeah, I do want to. And I really wish I could take you out somewhere, but—”

“The press, yeah.”

“But this is still a date, Felicity. I’m asking you on a date that we’re probably going to have to have a Iris’.”

Felicity smiled and turned towards Iris’ bed. “That sounds really wonderful, actually.”

“Great,” Oliver said, audibly exhaling, and it made Felicity feel a little better. 

“So…tomorrow night?” Oliver asked.

Felicity sighed, happily. “Alright. Tomorrow night.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye Oliver,” she said and hung up the phone so they didn’t get stuck in that endless cycle of waiting to see who’d hang up first.

Felicity turned back to her friend, a broad smile breaking over her features. “What have I just agreed to?”

Iris came in and wrapped her arms around Felicity, shrugging. “Finally doing what you should’ve done months ago. Hey Fe, just promise me one thing, alright?”

“Okay,” Felicity responded, hesitating just a little.

“Please don’t have sex on my bed…or the couch.”

“Iris!”

* * *

“I can’t believe you got Elena to make you food for your date,” Thea said as she stood at the kitchen island helping her brother pack a large picnic basket.

“Well, I didn’t want either of us to get food poisoning, Thea,” Oliver replied, rolling his eyes at his sister. “What would you have suggested? You know I don’t cook.”

Thea shrugged. “I don’t know, I could’ve picked something up for you, but I’m glad you went with my suggestion for finger foods, Ollie..”

“I do listen sometimes, Thea,” he grinned. He turned to open up the oven, taking out Felicity’s favorite—strawberry pie. 

“You look so stupid happy, bro.”

Oliver paused to look over at his sister, his countenance unsure. “Do you think…I mean—is this a stupid thing to do?”

“Ollie.” Thea shook her head and moved around the island to embrace her brother. “It’s not stupid, it’s sweet. You deserve to be happy Ollie, and I’ve always liked Felicity. She’s great for you. Now if you two would just get your act together, all of your friends and your favorite sister would be very, very happy.”

Oliver refrained from mentioning that she was his only sister. The topic of his father’s _other_ child was still a pretty sore spot.

“Thank you, Speedy.” Oliver happily returned the hug, so grateful for his sister in that moment.

“You’re welcome, bro.” Thea said pulling back from him. “And hey, her favorite pie should definitely help you get lucky.”

“Thea!”

* * *

An hour ago Felicity pushed Iris out of her apartment, with Barry trailing behind her. Iris had thrown another ‘_no sex on the couch, Felicity, seriously, we sometimes eat there_’ at her before Felicity’d shook her head, shooing her friend (and boyfriend?) away.

Iris had helped her move the living room furniture around after Oliver had texted that morning that he was packing a picnic dinner. Felicity looked around for something to do or fix, trying not to get caught up in the memories of picnic meals from years ago. They’d done it often, especially towards the end of their relationship when she’d wanted to escape his parents’ watchful, judging eyes. They were amongst her favorite memories of their relationship.

She picked a good blanket out of Iris’ closet—almost hearing her friend’s teasing voice in her ear—to cover the dark, hardwood floor where the coffee table had been. She lowered the lights, but not too much, and opened the shutters on Iris’ windows that had a magnificent view toward downtown Starling. Felicity wasn’t a fan of high rises, per se, preferring her townhouse and more green space, but Iris’ apartment was pretty much her second favorite place in the city.

Felicity startled slightly when the doorbell rang. She rubbed her slightly sweaty palms against the skirt of her dress. _Show off your legs, Fe. God, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve been on a date, right?_ Iris had said. Now, however, Felicity sort of wished for the comfort of her normal workout attire.

She walked to the door and stood for a moment, gathering herself before opening it. She couldn’t help the smile that broke over her face for anything in the world. 

Oliver stood on the other side of the threshold, an oversized basket in one hand, and a bouquet of sunflowers in the other. 

Felicity’s smile grew as she watched him shrug, extending the flowers to her a little sheepishly. 

“Are they still your favorite?” he asked and she nodded eagerly. 

“They are, and they’re beautiful. Come in.” She moved back from the door and let him pass, the heady scent of sandalwood following him in. 

He’d chosen a well-fitted Henley and an equally well-fitted pair of jeans, and he shouldn’t look so good, but he did. It was categorically unfair. 

He turned a small circle around Iris’ apartment, stopping intermittently before turning back to face her. 

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

Felicity wanted to laugh, but she didn’t want him to think it was directed at him. It felt odd to go through the pleasantries of a date after spending so much time around Oliver. It somehow felt off to mention certain things they’d skated over before. 

“Thanks. So you do. I mean, not beautiful—though you are kind of beautiful.” Felicity waved a hand in front of her. “You know what I mean.”

Oliver’s smile grew and he nodded at her. “Where should I—” He held up the picnic basket. 

“Uh,” she started, walking toward him and motioned for him to follow. “I uh, thought we’d eat on the floor. Unless you don’t want to, then we can eat at the dining room table Iris never uses.”

“No, the floor is great,” he said from behind her and Felicity did her best not to let her mind wander to other things the floor could be great for. 

Light from outside filtered through the big windows, casting a sharp, pink hue around the room. A couple of small, dim lights lit the room otherwise, but the overall effect was dreamy. Like everything was in soft focus. 

“Wow,” Oliver spoke. “This is a pretty impressive space. Iris is doing well for herself, huh?”

Felicity nodded, her face beaming. “Yeah, she is. Want to take a look around?”

Oliver nodded and set the picnic basket down before following closely behind her. She was acutely aware of him as she walked them through the little used kitchen space, and around the edge of the living room where one whole wall was dominated by built in bookshelves. 

“Nice fireplace,” Oliver mentioned. He rested a hand on her hip as he leaned slightly around her. Felicity let herself revel in his touch for a moment. 

“Mhmm,” Felicity replied as she stepped a little closer to him. She looked over her shoulder and motioned down the hallway. “Bedrooms down that way, Iris’ is on the left, but my favorite part…” She trailed off and reluctantly moved away from him, down the hall to a tiny staircase at the end. 

“There’s a little loft space up there, it’s Iris’ office.” She started to climb the stairs, pausing just to make sure he was still following her. 

The space had a huge window, with windows inside of it that opened out over the living room. It wasn’t an enormous room, perfect for an office space, but it seemed so much bigger when it was offset by the view over the main part of the apartment. 

“Very nice,” Oliver’s voice rang out right over her shoulder. 

She turned quickly and found herself standing a little too close to him, but having no inclination to move back. “So…should we eat dinner?” she asked timidly. The thought of dinner growing farther and farther from what she actually wanted.

Oliver nodded and stepped into her and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. 

She titled her head up to him and bit back a groan as his lips brushed her hairline. “Dinner sounds like a good idea.”

* * *

Oliver unpacked the picnic basket with slightly trembling hands. He set out the plate of hard cheeses and tiny sandwiches that hadn’t been his preference, but Thea’d insisted would make a better picnic date than what he wanted.

“No one wants to eat spaghetti on a picnic, Ollie,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Ooh!” Felicity exclaimed suddenly, bringing him back to the moment. He looked over at her, tracking her eyes to the item in his hands. “Is that—”

“Strawberry pie, of course.” He smiled at how gleeful she was. “Want to start with that?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to help her stand. “I’ll get glasses for the wine.”

“How do you know I packed wine?” he threw over his shoulder. 

“Oliver, please—” her voice faded out a little and he was glad for a moment she couldn’t see him. He looked forward to hearing her say that to him under very different circumstances.

Two stemless wine glasses swam into his view, and he took them, muttering a thank you. Felicity sat back down beside him, grinning as she pulled a bottle of wine from the basket.

“Ooh,” she said inspecting the bottle. “Chateau Montelena. Wow, Oliver, they only made like, one hundred bottles of this wine. Sure you want to open this tonight? I’m sure Iris has something good we can drink that I can replace later.”

Oliver shook his head. “No, I’m sure.” He reached for the bottle, taking it gingerly from her hands. 

“But this is a pretty special wine, Oliver.”

“Well,” he started, looking through the basket for a wine key. “This is a pretty special occasion.” He smiled at her, loving the way she bit her lip and her face filled with color. “It’s our first date, after all.”

“What?” Felicity laughed aloud. “This is definitely not our first date.”

“Well, technically that’s true, but this Oliver hasn’t been out with this Felicity, so—” he paused to take the cork out of the bottle and settled it between them. “It’s new to us now, and I think that’s pretty important. I—I realized something that I’m kind of ashamed of, Felicity.”

She tilted her head and stared at him. “What’s that?”

“I don’t really know you now. And I think a lot of that has to do with an idea that I held onto. The girl that I knew then, and how she’s just as smart—maybe smarter—and lovely as she was then, but you’re different. That’s not a bad thing!” he said quickly as he watched her eyes drop. “But, there’s still so much between us, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of who you were. I knew you so well.”

Felicity reached for the wine bottle between them and poured two healthy glasses before picking one up and holding it out to him. 

“Well, then to figuring it all out.” She raised her glass and smiled a little up at him. He clinked his glass happily and leaned against the couch a little, his gaze moving towards the windows and the rapidly descending sun. 

They sat and talked for a while, tiptoeing around the things they both wanted to say. It was easy, and stress-free. Felicity’s laughter mixed with Oliver’s and they sat enjoying the food and wine and one another.

“Thank you for saying yes,” he whispered in a moment of silence. Felicity’s head popped up and she gave him an enigmatic smile. “To a date, with me. I know—this whole thing has been complicated and awkward. Made more awkward by yesterday’s revelations, but I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Felicity ducked her head, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. 

“You don't need to thank me for that.” 

Oliver smiled. “I want you to know about the years when we were apart, Felicity. I think—we need to talk about things. So there aren’t anymore surprises.”

Felicity looked up at him quickly, then away again, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Hey,” Oliver said, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. “I know what we said before, but I don’t think leaving the past in the past is going to be of benefit to either one of us.”

“You’re probably right,” she said softly. Felicity looked back at him and Oliver couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes. “There’s something I should’ve said to you a long time ago, but I didn’t know-how, and Iris has been telling me that I should do it, but I didn’t want you to hate me or think that I tried to trick you, or worse, that I’m the reason—”

“Hey,” Oliver interrupted. “Whatever it is, just tell me. Nothing you could say to me would make me think less of you.”

“Don’t say, Oliver.” Felicity shook her head, smoothing down her dress. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do,” Oliver replied. “I just wish you’d trust that.” 

“Oliver—”

“Felicity, just tell me. Whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere.”

Oliver watched Felicity clasp her hands together, tension radiating off of her frame.

“So,” Felicity started, then paused to clear her throat. “I haven’t—there are things that I know about your family that—” She let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back against Iris’ couch. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when your parents came by your house and you came down to the gym after your dad left?”

Oliver swallowed hard and nodded. “Felicity, did my dad—was he—”

“Oh god.” She waved her hands frantically in front of her. “No, no, no. Your dad wasn’t hitting on me. God, no. Just—I don’t know that what I have to say is better, but no. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Okay.” Oliver nodded and waited for her to speak. The need to know what happened nagged at him, like a mosquito bite begging to be scratched. 

“Our senior year, I was looking for you at your house and I caught your dad in his study with someone.” Felicity worried her hands over the blanket, green-tipped fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm. “Turns out, that woman was Isabel.”

Oliver felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Felicity kept going.

“I didn’t know her name at the time and didn’t realize until yesterday that it was the same woman. That much I can guarantee you, but I knew your father was cheating and I didn’t say anything to you. He—he threatened me if I did. He let me know in no uncertain terms what could happen to my scholarships, the largest of which was an endowment from the Queen family, and he also told me that no one would believe me. So, I didn’t say anything.”

Oliver stared for a long while, watching as tears trailed down her face.

“I’m so sorry Oliver.”

He saw tears forming in her eyes as she continued to worry her hands. 

“Oliver…”

“I—” Oliver shook his head, leaning forward to look at her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Felicity? Then, not now. Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Oliver,” she started, reaching for his hand, but he pulled it back, not able to handle that at the moment. “You worshipped your dad. You just thought he was the greatest guy and I wasn’t going to be the person to ruin that for you.”

“So it had nothing to do with potential of losing money?”

Felicity reared back, her eyes narrowing. “That’s not fair. I didn’t grow up like you, Oliver and you know that. I worked hard to get those scholarships, to get into a good university and the prospect of losing that was terrifying, yes, but nothing was more terrifying than the prospect of losing you. Of the thought that you might not believe me, that you would think the worst of me. Don’t know what could’ve given me that idea.”

Oliver took a deep breath and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, but I wish—god, Felicity I wish you would’ve trusted me.” Oliver looked up at her and shook his head. “If none of this had ever come out, would you have told me?”

Felicity shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

Oliver and Felicity sat, staring at one another for a while. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. Oliver could see the effort she used not to cry, her hands restless in her lap, then pushing her hair back, even though it wasn’t out of place. 

“Felicity,” Oliver started, “I’m—I don’t know what I am—disappointed more than anything else. You were my best friend, you should’ve told me. I would’ve believed anything you told me.”

“I couldn’t be responsible for hurting you that way, Oliver.”

“But you did later.”

“I did?” she asked, disbelief obvious in her tone.

“Yes,” Oliver nodded as he replied. “Yes, I loved you and you broke my heart, Felicity. You just broke up with me without any reason.”

“Oliver, please—”

“No, there wasn’t any good reason to end our relationship, Felicity.”

“There was a very good reason to end our relationship, Oliver,” she said as she twisted her body around to stand. “You know there was.”

“What?” he asked, standing to face her, his voice steadily rising. “What was the reason then Felicity? I mean, you not telling me about my dad seems to mean there were some pretty big trust issues, and I never gave you a reason to doubt me or us. So what was it, just tell me!”

“Just ask your father, Oliver!” she spat back at him. “You two seem to be cut from the same cloth.”

Oliver stumbled back a little. “What? Felicity, I am nothing like my father.”

“Yeah?” she scoffed and Oliver hated the sound from her. “So from the end of high school to about five years ago you were just what? Having a good time? Seeing how many women you could bed?”

“That’s not fair. I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not anything like my father.”

Oliver saw the tears in her eyes finally crest over and onto her cheeks. “I don’t know how to believe that.”

The sound of keys and the opening door broke into the moment. Iris and Barry came tumbling together through the door.

“I heard yelling down the hall, sorry,” Iris said quickly. “I just—we can go, but I just wanted to make sure—”

“It’s fine Iris. I’m gonna head out,” Oliver replied, bending back down to put empty plates, and ramekins into the picnic basket. 

“You don’t have to go on my account, Oliver,” Iris told him, but her attention was mostly on her Felicity who had her back towards them. 

“It’s alright.” Oliver shook his head and gave a sad smile. “I don’t think there’s anything left for either of us to say.”

  



	6. Postoperative Weeks 23-28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reckoning, a job offer, a reconciliation, and a church service.
> 
> This chapter is rated M towards the end.

Sweat dripped down the side of Oliver's neck as he shuffled on quick feet. His arm poised to throw the ball looking for an open receiver downfield. He heard the familiar smack of contact as the offensive line tried to hold the defense at bay. He saw Harper open twenty yards away. Oliver planted himself, drew his arm back, and sent off a well-aimed spiral. And before any of the defense broke through the O-line. 

He heard the shout and watched as Roy's fast feet carried him to the end zone, breaking free early on of the defense. 

“Nice work, man,” Diggle said, resting a heavy hand on Oliver's shoulder. 

Oliver smirked and nodded at his friend as the rest of the offensive line came over to congratulate him as well. 

“Gentleman!” a lightly accented voice called from the sidelines. “Off the field. Huddle up!” 

Coach Steele stood on the sidelines between the offensive and defensive line coaches. He looked crisp and cool even in the sweltering July heat. His austere exterior was something the team associated with his British-ness, in the beginning. But over the years, they learned that it was just how he operated. His single-minded nature led their franchise to two Super Bowl wins in a handful of years. He didn't coddle his players. Oliver had been on the receiving end of pointed looks and barbed words quite often at the start of his career. And after almost being fired, then a five-game suspension, Oliver figured out how to navigate being 'Ollie Queen, playboy,' and 'Oliver Queen, Quarterback.' 

Until five years ago, any way. Post "Isabel", Walter Steele hadn't had any reason to reprimand or discipline Oliver. 

“On behalf of the entire team,” Walter began, his eyes fixed on Oliver, “I'd like to welcome you back Queen.” 

Whoops and hollers and some raucous words rang out through the team. Oliver took the pats to the back and punches to the shoulder in stride. They knocked him off balance a little, but he recovered quickly. He threw, what he hoped, were menacing glances his teammates. 

“Dr. Smoak certainly did a phenomenal job,” Walter continued, “which is why I've invited her to come and tour our facilities later this week. I hope to entice her to be our full-time head trainer for The Archers.” 

Oliver blocked out the lascivious sounds of his teammates. They didn't know the history between he and Felicity. All they saw was a hot, blonde doctor, which was problem enough. 

“Settle down, you all are to be on your best behavior, I mean it. Or else.” The finality in Water's tone sobered up the team. “This will be my second attempt at offering Dr. Smoak this position, and she’s more than earned it. I think she’d be a phenomenal asset to our team.

“I expect you to be on the tour with me, Queen.” Walter looked at him sharply. “Help me convince Dr. Smoak to accept our offer.” 

* * *

The dank smell of sweat and musk hung heavy in the air of the team's locker room. Oliver stood in front of his locker, packing up his bag. He tried to keep his mind off the fact that Felicity would be there tomorrow. All-day. Close to him, watching their practice. He hadn’t seen her in three long weeks, and he felt each one of those moments. It felt like it did before—that same hollow gutted feeling starting to creep in around the edges of his heart. He sighed and leaned his head against the locker beside his own. 

“You okay, man?” 

Oliver turned to look at Diggle. He shrugged a big shoulder. “Yeah, man. I'm fine.” 

“Is this gonna be you from now on? 

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked. 

“Sad and annoying.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and slung his gym bag over his shoulder. “I'm not sad.” 

“Yeah, yeah you are, man. And it doesn't make any sense to me. Are you gonna deal when Felicity gets here tomorrow?” 

Oliver shrugged. “I'm a professional and so is she and I'm sure it'll be fine.” 

“I don't understand you two, and I really don't understand why you're this mad at her.” 

“I'm not mad, Digg.” Oliver set his bag down and sat heavily on the bench. “I'm disappointed. And annoyed. She didn't tell me this and she could've.” 

“Do you blame her for keeping this a secret? That couldn't have been easy to keep from you man—” 

“But she did, Digg!” Oliver exclaimed. “She kept it from me and I can't stop thinking about 'what if.' I want to believe I would've believed her, but I don't know that I would've. So I'm annoyed that I can't let it go. She made a choice, my father made a choice, and so did I. I can't blame those things on her. But...it just feels like betrayal and I don't know how to not think about it.” 

“You ever stop to think that maybe her not telling you wasn't about you at all?” 

“Ugh,” Oliver groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I can't think about this anymore, Digg. I just...can't. She didn't tell me something important, and I have to figure out a way to just let it go, I guess.” 

“Or you could talk to your father.” 

Oliver brought his head up from his hands and stared at his friend. “That seems like a terrible idea.” 

“You said that your father threatened Felicity, but you don't think that's all. And, since you've been acting like an ass for the past three weeks—” 

“Hey!” 

“—I doubt Felicity is willing to go back into the fray with you, so, ask your father. Make him be honest for a change.” 

Oliver sighed, then nodded, resigned. “I guess you're right.” 

“I usually am.” 

* * *

Oliver pulled into the driveway of his parents' home and sat in his Land Rover for a few minutes. The last of the press had finally packed up and moved on to the newest scandal. The lawn was still mired with tire tracks and cigarette butts around the edges. 

Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath before walking to the house. 

He called out a greeting when he entered, but silence rang out through the house. He walked toward the kitchen, expecting to find Raisa, but he found that empty as well. 

He walked slowly through the house, up the stairs to his parents' suite of rooms, taking in each errant marking he or Thea left throughout the years. The memories of Felicity roaming through the halls with him made him smile. He remembered her calling after him, laughing lightly as they made their way down the stairs. They used to be filled with so much joy. And so little worry.

He should've known something serious prompted Felicity's sudden reluctance to be in his home. But, he'd brushed it aside, not too concerned with having to spend more time with her elsewhere. He went wherever she led him—happily. 

Oliver scoffed at the memory. As if anything would change his desire to be near Felicity. The last three weeks taxed him greatly, but he didn't know how to approach her, or even what to say. His anger dissipated long ago, he wasn't lying when he told Digg that, but he couldn't get over the near-constant ache that she hadn't trusted him. It didn't make any sense to him. In the four years their relationship had lasted, he'd never given her a reason to doubt him. He'd never strayed, never even thought about it because before they ever kissed, her place in his life was too important. It made Tommy crazy, but Oliver couldn't be bothered with that. They'd been friends from such a young age and she was the only one that truly saw him through the haze of the 'Queen' name. 

“Oliver?” his mother's voice rang out from behind him. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

Oliver looked down at his feet and sighed before looking at his mother. She looked the same—not a hair out of place, her face still as put together, not a hint that she'd been upset. 

“I came to talk to dad,” Oliver replied. “Is he here?” 

Moira shook her head. “He's at the lake house. Has been for some weeks now.” 

Oliver walked closer to his mother, stopping a few feet from her. “How long did you know?” 

“A while,” Moira stated simply. “Let's go down to the kitchen and talk. I think Raisa left some sandwiches in the fridge.” 

They sat together at the kitchen island, Oliver picking over his pastrami on rye. Moira turned her tumbler of single-malt scotch lazily in her hand, the amber liquid creating a perfect swirl around the bottom of the glass. 

“How have you been living this for so long? Why?” Oliver asked no longer able to keep the question at bay. 

“Not everything is as simple as it seems, Oliver.” 

“Dad cheating for years seems like a pretty cut and dry thing. Why did you stay? Why are you still staying?” 

“I'm not still staying, Oliver. I—we—your father and I decided to file for divorce.” 

“And why not fifteen years ago?” 

Moira brought her tumbler up to her lips and took a dainty sip. 

“You and your sister needed stability, and I—” 

“Mom—” 

“And I was scared, Oliver. I didn't think that I could be on my own, and I didn't want to be. Your father has been in my life for a long time and we had issues, yes, but I loved him so much once. I kept thinking that couldn't be a total loss. I brought up divorce some years ago, but your father...he wasn't always like this, Oliver. I don't want you to hate him.” 

“Too late,” Oliver said. He stood abruptly from his chair and began to pace. “Did he ever...I mean...did you know about him threatening Felicity?” 

“What?” Genuine shock broke over Moira's face. “Why would your father threaten Felicity?” 

Oliver paused and looked over at his mother. “She caught dad and Isabel here. Senior year. Dad threatened her if she said anything to me.” 

“I didn't know about that, Oliver.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “so what was your reason for not liking Felicity?” 

“I never disliked Felicity, Oliver.” 

“Mom, please, enough with the lies—” 

Moira held up a hand to stop him. “That's the truth. I didn't dislike Felicity, I was concerned for her. She was too smart for her age. Ambitious and beautiful—all the things your father appreciated in his...companions. I was concerned about her—and you. Being a little unwelcoming to Felicity kept her and by extension you, away from the house. And more importantly, away from your father.” 

Oliver sat back in the seat across from his mother. He let his head fall into his hands, taking deep breaths to keep his anger from spilling over at her. 

“Wouldn't it have just been easier to tell me the truth?” 

Moira shrugged and the motion looked out of place on her. “I couldn't wreck the image you had of your father, sweetheart.” 

Oliver laughed—it was bitter and hoarse as tears clogged his throat. “A lot of good that did me, mom. You and Felicity both said that, yet here we are. My image of dad shattered five years ago and it could've been prevented. This could've been prevented if you'd been honest with me.” He held up a hand as Moira opened her mouth to speak. “I'm not innocent in any of this, and I don't know what I would've done, but I would've liked the opportunity regardless.” 

“You can't know that it would've made a difference, Oliver.” 

“No,” he replied, standing up to leave. “You're right. I can't know that, but either way, it would've been nice if the people I love trusted me even a little bit.” 

“Sweetheart—” 

“Do you know why she broke up with me?” Oliver hated the way his voice sounded in his ears, too tinny and shallow, the hurt he still felt evident. 

“No,” Moira said. “No, I honestly don't. But I was glad that day when I found out. I'm sorry, but all I felt was relief that she was out of your father's sights. I didn't realize how much it would hurt you in the end.” 

“Yeah, that seems to be a recurring theme in this family.” 

* * *

“Dr. Smoak,” Slade Wilson's voice held a tinge of surprise. He sat back in his chair, finger clasped together over his chest. “I didn't think you'd return to us. The work you did with Queen—” Slade shook his head and let out a breath. “—remarkable. Truly. Thought you'd be getting offers for sure. Not sticking around at Starling City General.”

Felicity rolled her eyes and reached out her hand. “I just came for the consult file, Dr. Wilson.” 

“Too good to talk to us commoners now?” 

Felicity gritted her teeth and counted to ten, breathing in and out—slowly. “Dr. Wilson, we are not friends. You've made it clear to me on many occasions how you find my skills to be lacking. Yes, I'm just a DPT and not a medical doctor, but I assure you—” 

“Lessor, perhaps, Dr. Smoak.” Slade sat forward and leaned his elbows on his desk. “But certainly not lacking. I would send all my consults to you if I could, but Dr. Fei is protective. Though it seems unnecessary. You've got a bit of hellfire in you.” 

“The file, please,” Felicity said, her voice low. 

“I'm not as terrible as you think I am, Dr. Smoak.” Slade slid the file across the desk to her. “Regardless, I'm glad you're back. None of the other therapists hold a candle to you.” 

Felicity took the file and beat a hasty retreat from Slade's office, not at all in the mood to deal with him. 

Felicity ignored the murmurs and pointed glances as she walked the hall back to the physical therapy suites. 

For three weeks her mind replayed her disastrous date with Oliver. Well, it hadn't been completely disastrous. A lot of it had been great. But then... the way his face fell, the way his voice sounded when she told him about his father. About what he said. 

_Well, not all he said_. She thought. 

She left out Robert Queen's not-so-subtle hint that Oliver was just like him. That Queen men were inherently unfaithful. She hadn't believed him, never had a reason to believe him. But then she'd gone over to the house that day and seen... And then Tommy coming to her the next day...

Felicity shook away the cobweb of memories, and focused on the file in her hand. 

“Forty-two-year-old, female patient, recovering from surgery of a torn meniscus and radial ligaments. Second surgery in as many years. Patient unwilling to follow regimen the first time, resulting in further damage more aggressive surgery,” Felicity read aloud. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, not paying attention to where she was going until she ran headlong into someone. 

“Woah, Fe,” Iris spoke, her hands resting on Felicity's arms. “Where were you just now? I called your name, didn't expect you to walk right into me.” 

“Sorry Iris,” Felicity held up the file in her hand, “new consult, I was a little distracted. What are—I mean, I'm always happy to see you, but why—” 

“We are going to lunch because I have news, and we're battle planning for tomorrow.” 

“Battle planning? We?”

“Uh, I know you don’t think you’re going to The Archers training facility without me,” Iris said as she flipped her long brown hair over one shoulder. “Besides, I told Barry I would be there. I think I can write an amazing article about Dr. Felicity Smoak, head trainer for The Archers. I hope Billy won't mind being scooped too much.”

Felicity sighed, walking back towards her office. “I’m not accepting the job, Iris.”

“Ugh, why not, Fe? Think of how amazing it would be to—”

“I need to be here, Iris. Yes, the pay would increase and it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, but think of how often I’d be gone? With dad sick, I don’t think—”

“Felicity Megan Smoak, did you talk to your dad about this? You know there’s no way he would let you pass this up—”

“Iris,” Felicity sighed. She shut the door as they walked into her office. "Dad thinks I should take it, of course. He's not happy that I'm not even considering it."

Quentin Lance had been admitted into the hospital again. This time with no clear sign of when he'd be getting out. It worried Felicity more than she could admit to anyone--even Iris. 

“I’m not leaving my mom and Laurel and Sara," Felicity started, then paused. "Well, more like Mom and Laurel—here in Starling to worry about dad by themselves.”

“Sara take off again?” Iris asked as she sat down on the plush, deep blue couch in Felicity’s office. 

“Yeah, but it’s alright. We all deal with things in our own way. And since dad has flatly refused any more chemo treatments if his cancer comes back I—”

“Felicity,” Iris said softly, leaning forward. “I get it. But your dad is right. You know he is. And you know what's stopping you.” Iris stood and brushed her hands down her heather gray dress. “Now come, let’s go, I’m starving.”

* * *

“You know you don’t have to come tomorrow,” Felicity told Iris, as she stabbed her Greek salad with a little more force than necessary. 

“Yes I do, Fe, and you know why?” 

Felicity shook her head. Iris had a maniacal grin on her face, and Felicity knew better than to interrupt her train of thought.

“So that I can lead Coach Steele and Barry off to talk about football things while you talk to Oliver.”

Felicity reached for a piece of pita bread using it to scoop up a big dollop of hummus. “Oliver made it clear that he doesn’t want to talk to me, and I don’t blame him, Iris. I feel terrible. You were right. I should’ve told him sooner.”

Iris placed a hand on top of Felicity’s. “It’ll work out, I’m sure it will, you both love each other—”

“Love?” Felicity interrupted. “I never said anything about love. He’s a good friend, and I miss my friend. I’m not in love with Oliver.”

“Okay,” Iris surrendered. “Listen, let’s table our plan for a few minutes, because I have some exciting news. Are you ready?”

Felicity nodded and clasped her hands beneath her chin, waiting for her best friend to speak.

“My article has been nominated for an IRE!”

“Iris!” Felicity exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and hugging her best friend. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me immediately. An Investigative Reporters & Editors award? I’m so, so proud of you, Iris. I knew you could do this.”

Iris beamed at her friend. “Thank you, Fe. I’m just—I can’t believe it’s actually happening. One step closer to the Pulitzer, baby.”

“We need to celebrate. Let’s go out tonight.”

Iris paused and looked at her friend. “Or, we can stay in and share wine like we usually do. Also, we have to look fantastic tomorrow for this meeting.”

Felicity slumped and moved to sit back in her chair. “I guess.”

“Felicity, you aren’t being led to the gallows. You’re getting an opportunity to work with a top ranked NFL team. And have regular contact with hot, sweaty, athletic men.”

“Why don’t you take the job then?”

“Would that I could, Fe,” Iris sighed. “Seriously, this is going to be great tomorrow. Just…at least give it some consideration. Think about how wonderful it would be to actually work in a place where you’re appreciated.”

“I’m appreciated at SCG, Iris,” Felicity replied. “And it’s stable.”

“Fuck stable, Fe, it’s time to shake up your life a bit.”

“No, it’s not the time to shake up my life, not even a little.” Felicity turned her attention back to her meal, stabbing the remains of her salad with extra fervor. “I need steady and uncomplicated and this whole mess has shown me that. A normal life does not include going around the country with hot, sweaty men. A normal life is here in Starling, with my family, and my job—that I like. Normal is the watchword.”

“Right. Normal.”

* * *

The drive to the lake house took a little less than an hour. Oliver’s stomach grumbled on the way, but he didn’t feel like stopping. He wanted to get this out of the way. Confront his father, maybe find out the truth behind everything and then... Then he’d go and talk to Felicity. 

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the image of her face from three weeks ago rolled across his memory. He'd left Iris' in a hurry, ignoring both her and Barry's voices as they'd called after him. He couldn’t talk to her. He knew he should've stayed. Shouldn't have just walked out. Should've made them both confront their past, but he'd been hurt. Hurt with the knowledge that she'd been content to just leave.

The next day Iris, dragging a long a weary Barry, had come to his house and packed up the rest of her belongings. 

And just like that, it felt like fifteen years ago all over again. She was gone from his life without, and it hurt just like it had before. 

Oliver pulled his SUV up behind his father’s Porsche Carrera, hopping out of the car once it was in park. 

He rang the doorbell, not wishing to walk in on anything that he didn’t want to have etched in his memory. 

The door swung open a minute later, Oliver and his father facing off over the threshold. 

“Oliver,” Robert said, his voice held little warmth. “I suppose your mother told you where I was. You sure did wait quite a while.”

“Can I come in?” Oliver asked, but moved through the door any way without waiting for a response. “I just saw mom today since…everything. I didn’t know you weren’t at the house.”

“Yes, well, your mother decided she no longer wants to be married to me.”

Oliver scoffed. “You almost sound hurt. Well done.”

“Don’t be snide, Oliver,” Robert bit out. “I am still your father.”

“Yeah, a fact that I’m so proud of.” Oliver stood, arms crossed, a look of contempt covering his features. “You made a mess of my life, you know that?”

“Did I somehow force you to sleep with Isabel?”

“No,” Oliver spoke through gritted teeth, “you just left her and decided not to take care of your kid. I don’t blame her for being vengeful. Only a real asshole doesn’t want to take care of his own child.”

“I didn’t want to raise another child, Oliver.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought of that before having an affair with one of your interns!” Oliver yelled, his anger finally cresting. “You did this to mom for years, you lied to me and Thea, and you threatened Felicity when she found out.”

“That’s what really has you upset, isn’t it?” Robert provoked. “You don’t care about my infidelity,” he held up a hand to interrupt Oliver, “not--at least not only. You only care about how it affected that stupid little relationship with Felicity.”

“It wasn’t a stupid little relationship, it—”

“Oliver, be sensible,” Robert said, his voice still measured and low. “Look at all you’ve achieved. Look at your life! Do you think you’d be in this place if you’d held onto that relationship and that girl?”

“No, I’d be in someplace better!” Oliver ran his hands through his hair. “I wouldn’t have the shame of years of recklessness and abuse. Wouldn't have had a DUI that almost killed someone. I definitely wouldn't have slept with my father’s long-time mistress. I just would’ve had Felicity. Could have been stable and happy and not cost The Archers millions of dollars in endorsements over the years.” Oliver started to pace, his agitation making it impossible to be still. “I probably would’ve been happy, but when has that ever mattered to you?”

“You can lay a lot of things at my feet, Oliver. But please, don’t kid yourself into thinking that I’m the only reason Felicity left you. It was fifteen years ago, son.”

“Don’t—” Oliver bit out, “call me that. Don’t try and pretend like what I had with Felicity was insignificant. You knew it wasn’t. And you brought her back into my life.”

“Because, while I think she’s beneath you and that family is...interesting... She’s still the best at what she does. There isn’t an ortho at SCG that doesn’t sing her praises. Regardless of what you may think, Oliver, I have always wanted the best for you.”

“What did you say to her? What did you threaten her with?”

Robert sighed, and walked into the living room. He moved to the sideboard and poured three fingers of scotch, taking a hearty sip before turning to Oliver. “I simply let her know on whose favor she attended Starling City Prep. And, on whose benevolence her partial scholarship to a top tier university was contingent on.” Robert paused to finish the scotch in his glass before pouring more amber liquid into his glass. “At first, that didn’t particularly sway her. After all, the school was almost over and she had plenty of other scholarships. I knew it would worry her, but Felicity was always too smart for her own good. I doubt my meddling would’ve truly stopped her.”

“What else did you say?” Oliver asked, his patience wearing thin.

“I let her know it’d be in her best interest to keep what she saw quiet because it was a trait that all Queen men shared.” Robert raised his glass towards Oliver. “We don’t have faithfulness in us, Oliver. My father didn’t, neither did his father—and neither do you.”

“I’m not anything like you.”

“Oh?” Robert raised an eyebrow. “I think this whole thing proves that you are quite like me. Do you not think I saw you sneaking McKenna Hall into our home the last week of your senior year? If anything, I think I saved Dr. Smoak from a lifetime of—”

“McKenna?” Oliver asked. “You think I snuck McKenna into our house because I was cheating?”

“You needn’t be so upset about it Oliver, I understand.”

“You don’t understand anything.” Oliver moved in closer to his father. He towered over the older man by enough to make his father have to look up at him. “Did you somehow convince Felicity that I cheated on her?”

“Felicity came looking for you that day. I told her you were busy with McKenna.” Robert tried to step back from Oliver but bumped into the marble bar top instead. “She would’ve found out even if I hadn’t said something, Oliver. As I said, she was far too smart for her own good.”

Oliver backed away from his father, the pit in his stomach growing. He wanted nothing more than to haul off and punch the man in his too smug face. 

“McKenna’s parents kicked her out of the house when they found out she was gay. She needed someplace to stay until her sister got into town the next day. McKenna was only ever my friend.” Oliver moved back until his back hit the opposite wall. “She lives in Gotham now with her wife. They have a son. I send him Archers gear from time to time.”

Robert shrugged. “Alright,” he reacted with a snide sniff. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me either way, Oliver. You and I are cut from the same cloth. You can’t run from it.”

“You put the idea in her head that I could be something less than faithful to her when I never was,” Oliver pointed at his father. 

“I didn’t force her to breakup with you, Oliver. Call it a happy by product, surely. I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on her, there are a million women—”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Oliver interrupted. He pushed off the wall and walked towards the door. “Your shortcomings and incapabilities are not mine. I am not you.”

* * *

“You look like hell,” Diggle said, opening the door and letting Oliver pass. “The talk didn’t go well, huh?”

Oliver moved through Diggle’s house as if it were his own. When Oliver’s life finally corrected itself, he grew closer to the Diggle. Not just due to his position on the offensive line with, but because Diggle hadn’t immediately written Oliver off. Oliver respected John Diggle, thought of him as a brother. And at the moment, he desperately needed someone who knew both sides of him to tell him he wasn’t crazy.

Oliver found Lyla sitting at their kitchen table. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting down in an empty chair. Diggle placed a beer down in front of Oliver before sliding into the seat across from Lyla. 

“Worse than I expected,” Oliver started, pausing to take a drink. “Though to be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. I—Digg, my father is an asshole. That much is obvious. But, as angry as I am at him for everything, he’s still not totally to blame for Felicity leaving.”

“Okay,” Diggle nodded. “I think we can safely assume no one made that decision for her but _her_.”

Oliver shook his head. “Sure, but he put the idea in her head that I was unfaithful, and he’s my father so…”

“Okay,” Lyla cut in, “start from the beginning because I’m confused and missing some pieces.”

So Oliver did. He told Lyla about growing up with Felicity, about dating her, about the end of their relationship.

“So,” Lyla breathed out, “this McKenna that you helped, Felicity got the wrong idea about her from your dad?”

Oliver nodded. “I didn’t say anything to anyone about McKenna, she asked me not to--”

“You two and your secrets,” Diggle interrupted. “Still, and I say this as someone who thinks Felicity is great, she made the decision to believe what she wanted to. Your father may have planted a seed of doubt—”

“A pretty big seed of doubt, Digg. That’s all that’s necessary, right? Felicity is afraid of people leaving her. She’d…she said it to me once, but I never thought much more about it. I had no intention of going anywhere.”

Diggle shook his head. “This still doesn’t feel right, man. I know what your dad said, but Felicity is smart. And she knew your dad was a cheater. Why would she just out and out believe him?”

“He told her that Queen men aren’t the most faithful. I’m sure that didn’t help.”

Diggle shrugged. “Maybe, but something still feels off,” Diggle paused. His fingers toyed with the label on his empty beer bottle. “Who else could you ask about it?"

Oliver sighed and sat back in his chair. “Digg, I didn’t tell anyone about McKenna. She asked me not to, she wasn’t out in high school, and she was worried about what would happen if it got around. And I wouldn’t out her like that.”

“Okay, but what if someone else found out and told Felicity about it? What if they told her half the truth? It's not implausible, given your life.”

“No,” Oliver shook his head. “That sounds like a convoluted plan.”

“No offense, Oliver,” Lyla cut in, “but your entire life is a convoluted plan.”

Oliver laughed, and then started to laugh harder. He sat back and let the bitterness of the situation wash over him, letting a little bit of the built up mania out.

“You’re right, Lyla. But maybe everyone is right. This all happened fifteen years ago, maybe I should just…move on.”

“Move on?”

“Yeah,” Oliver shrugged. “Let it go. See I can just start over with Felicity.”

“Right,” Diggle spoke, “as if the past is going to willingly stay where you put it. Hasn’t the last month shown you that the past is going to keep cropping up until you face it.”

“So let’s say I face this, Digg. What’s the best-case scenario? That Felicity got the wrong idea about McKenna and assumed the worse about me. She didn’t come to me about it, instead, she believed whatever she was told. She didn't trust me to be faithful. And now there's all this mess in the fifteen years between then and now. All my problems in the intervening years, and this whole Isabel thing. So what can happen from there, Digg? I don’t—” Oliver sat back defeated. He could think of no scenario that had a positive outcome, a way for them to be together without being haunted by specters of the past. “In the end, all I keep seeing is her not trusting me and I don’t know how to fix that.”

* * *

Felicity woke the next morning with a leftover wine headache, courtesy of celebrating Iris’ success. She dressed with particular care. She told herself that it was for the benefit of making a good impression. Though she ended up choosing a color Oliver favored her in. She and Iris rode together to The Archers’ facility where they were greeted by Coach Steele, Oliver, Diggle, and Barry. 

Felicity toyed with her bottom lip, turning to look at Iris who presented her with a wide smile. “You can do this, Fe.”

Felicity nodded and walked toward the assembled group, head held high, and a polite smile on her face.

“Dr. Smoak,” Walter began, walking towards her with his hand outstretched. “It’s lovely to see you again. Thank you for taking the time to come and speak with me.”

“Coach Steele, it’s a pleasure. Thank you.” Felicity took his hand and shook it firmly. She always appreciated a man who could give a woman a proper handshake. “I’m not sure my answer will be any different from before, but—”

“At least allow me to show you some of our upgrades and the facility you’d be in charge of before you let me down.” He had a broad, welcoming smile with teeth that would’ve been predatory with anyone else, but somehow managed to work well for him. Walter turned his gaze to Iris. “And you must be the reporter from the Starling City Herald?”

“Yes,” Iris nodded, sticking out her hand in greeting. “Iris West.”

“Iris West…you do a lot of investigative reporting, correct? Brilliant stuff. This isn’t exactly your beat, is it?”

Iris shook her head. “You’re right, it isn’t, but I figured what harm would it do coming along with my best friend to check out how The Archers are shaping up for the season.”

Walter smiled and inclined his head towards her. “Well lucky for us to have such a talent on our tour.”

Felicity saw Barry shoot a look in Iris’ direction that could be described as nothing less than besotted. 

“I assume you know these gentlemen, then,” Walter said as he pointed behind him. 

“Yes, quite well,” Iris grinned. “Hello fellas.”

The men gave various forms of greeting, moving closer to the two women.

Felicity’s hands grew clammy and her heart sped up a little as Oliver walked closer to her. He looked good dressed in a pair of well-fitted slacks and a blue button-down. She took a chance to look at him and found him staring back at her. He looked tired as he walked toward her. She did her best to put on a welcoming smile, but felt like she fell short.

Oliver nodded at her and spoke softly. “It’s good to see you, Felicity.”

“You too,” she replied and, cut her eyes away from his to meet John’s, who gave her a small smile and reached out to hug her. 

“It’s good to see you, John.” Felicity let her shoulders drop a little in his embrace. It felt fortifying, as if he were lending her a bit of his strength. 

“You too, Felicity.”

Walter politely cleared his throat and the assembled group waited for him to speak. “Dr. Smoak, Miss West, I’d like to welcome you to The Archers’ training facility.”

The assembled group slowly made their way through the interior of the facility. Walter showed Felicity and Iris the training space and offices she would occupy, as well as introducing the current assistant trainers and training interns. 

Since Felicity’s last visit, The Archers’ training facility, had made multi-million dollar upgrades. Upgrades that made her want to weep with joy. 

“As you can see, Dr. Smoak,” Walter began, pointing towards the not-yet-available-to-the-public machines, “we’ve spared no expense in our training facilities. I know SCG has some fine equipment, but I doubt you’d be able to find this level of machinery outside of the Archers’ franchise.”

“You’re right, Coach Steele,” Felicity agreed. “And please, call me Felicity.”

Walter nodded. “Then please, call me Walter.” He motioned forward. “Shall we?”

The tour moved through the locker rooms, briefly before moving to the outdoor area where the rest of the team currently worked on plays. 

Iris nudged Felicity with her hip, inclining her head toward the players who were making their way off the field. 

“Just think,” Iris whispered. Felicity couldn’t stop herself from letting out a burst of laughter. 

“Gentleman,” Coach Steele began, his voice much more austere than it’d been earlier. “This is Dr. Felicity Smoak, and Miss Iris West from the Starling City Herald. Remember what I said to you all yesterday.” The look he leveled at the players made Felicity stand a little taller. Felicity didn’t doubt his effectiveness with them for a moment. Walter turned to Felicity, “would you care to watch a couple of plays? Connor Hawke is subbing in for Oliver today as QB. It should be fun to watch.”

“Sure, I’d love that.”

Walter led Felicity and Iris over to the sidelines near the offensive line coach. Iris, ever the vigilant reporter, already had out her recorder and moved to talk to the coach, Barry trailing along behind her.

“That kid’s ridiculous,” John said, his voice low as he peered down at Felicity. “He hasn’t stopped talking about Iris since he met her. Some of the guys tried to close him up in his locker to get him to shut up.”

Felicity laughed and looked over at her best friend who exuded a confidence she envied from time to time. Not that Felicity doubted her capabilities, but something about Iris just drew people in—it made her a phenomenal reporter. And just a wonderful person, period. 

“Iris tends to have that effect on people, I’m not surprised Barry couldn’t resist.” Felicity smiled up at John. Oliver stood on the other side of him, quietly looking at her, but not saying anything. 

Diggle cleared his throat and pointed down the field. “I’m going to go make sure Barry is making himself useful.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at his retreating back. 

“Diggle isn’t always so subtle,” Oliver said as he moved closer to her. “I’m actually surprised we didn’t end up locked up in some supply closet somewhere.”

Felicity gave him a tentative smile and looked up at him. “I didn’t see any supply closets on the tour.”

“Hmm. That’s probably why then.”

Her smile started to fall as he looked away towards the field. Grunting and the sound of cleats through the grass were the only sounds around them for the time being. 

“That,” Oliver began, leaning towards her, “is a draw play.” His hand came up to point to Connor on the field. “It looks like he’s setting up a pass play, but he’s going to hand it to Roy, who’s going to try and run it up the center.”

Felicity took a deep breath and watched the various plays as Oliver narrated, his voice soothing and relaxing. He smelled earthy, or maybe it was the grass that surrounded them, but either way, it calmed her. It felt familiar. And she wanted more of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her as the players on the field reset at 1st & 10. “I should’ve called. I shouldn't have just left. I—”

“Please,” Felicity interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Oliver. Honestly. I didn’t tell you something pretty big. I don’t blame you for how you reacted.”

Oliver shrugged. “Still—I’ve—I didn’t realize how much you became a part of my life again, and I’ve really missed you these last few weeks.”

Felicity bit her bottom lip and stared at him for a moment. He looked so earnest and sincere. Over the months she’d grown to know this version of Oliver and found him to be every bit as wonderful, maybe even more so than the Oliver she’d known in high school. 

Fear still lingered though, and she didn’t know how wise it would be to let herself fall so wholly under his spell again. 

“I—” she hesitated, but then looked at him and smiled. He looked at her with so much longing, it nearly brought her to her knees. “I missed you, too.”

The grin that overtook Oliver’s face made Felicity do the same. 

“Can we…talk tonight? Maybe—” he paused, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe come over and we can just sit and talk like we used to. Thea might be home, but—”

“You can come over to my place,” Felicity blurted before she could stop herself. She started to backpedal almost immediately, “I mean if you want. If not, your place works fine, too, I just, with Thea may be there that you wouldn’t—”

“Your place sounds great,” he stopped her rambling decisively. He nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Thank you for dropping by, Felicity, Iris,” Walter said as he walked them back through the facility. “I hope it was an informative day.”

“Absolutely,” Felicity stuck her hand out to shake his once more. “And thank you again for considering me for the position.”

“Of course, and please, take your time, and promise me you’ll consider it. Talk it over with your friend,” Walter nodded toward where Iris and Barry stood close together. “She seems to be a persuasive soul.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Walter laughed, a bright, full sound that made Felicity laugh along with him. “I look forward to hearing from you, either way, Felicity.”

Felicity nodded and waved, watching Walter walk away for a few moments before turning to Oliver and John. “I should’ve known Iris would abandon me halfway through for Barry.”

John laughed. “They didn’t abandon you, though part of me wishes they had. They’re almost too cutesy to stand.”

“I’ve never seen Iris like this,” Felicity replied looking back over at her friend who stood wrapped tightly in Barry’s arms. “I think it’s nice.”

“I think I’m going to get a cavity,” John leaned down and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Lyla still wants the four of us to have dinner, so think about it alright?”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, Felicity. You two take care,” he said, although the majority of his attention rested on Oliver. Oliver nodded at John, apparently understanding whatever message being sent. 

“So,” Oliver turned his full attention back to her and it was truly daunting. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Mhmm. Yes.” Felicity bit at her bottom lip, her breath catching when she felt Oliver’s thumb brush against it, moving it out of the grasp of her teeth. 

“Don’t look so worried.” Felicity knew his smile was meant to be reassuring, but it did nothing to settle the burst of nerves making her stomach churn. He leaned toward her and kissed the corner of her mouth, his thumb still rubbing along her bottom lip. He stepped back and waved a little before walking away from her towards Barry.

She felt Iris come up beside her. The two of them watching Oliver and Barry go back into the training facility.

“So,” Iris began, looping her arm through Felicity’s, “tonight is apparently a night for cute underwear, huh?”

“Iris!”

* * *

Oliver stood at the threshold of Felicity's townhouse, hand poised to knock on her door. A wave of nerves hit him at he approached, and he couldn't shake them. 

What if the reason Felicity dumped him had nothing to do with McKenna? What if she meant the things she'd said all those years ago? That they were just too different. That they wanted different things out of life? That they were never meant to be anything more than what they'd been? 

Thinking about that made his chest ache. It hurt enough to think she hadn't—couldn't trust him. He didn't know how he could make a difference there, but it hurt even worse to think she hadn't cared about him at all. 

He shook himself of those thoughts, and rapped at her door three times. Neither option was a good one. One left him as untrustworthy in her eyes, while the other left him as someone she didn't want to be with. 

He took a deep breath as the door swung open. Light color infused her cheeks and she looked a little out of breath. Oliver needed to kiss her in that moment--like he needed air.

“You're a little early,” Felicity said, her voice low and a little breathy. 

“Yeah, I just...” Oliver shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. “I'm a little anxious I guess. Couldn't wait. Sorry.” 

She waved away his explanation. “It's alright. Come on in.” 

Oliver's body brushed against hers as he entered her home. He hoped the scent of honeysuckle would cling to him the way it still lingered in his home. 

The door shut behind him, but he didn't turn to look at her. He looked around the colorful space; it felt like Felicity. The warm, earthy tones interspersed with bright pops of color flowed well together. Her townhome wasn't large, but it was warmer than his own space. Much warmer than his childhood home. He suspected that had much more to do with Felicity though than any decorating choices. 

He turned back to her. She stood with her back against the door, wringing her hands, her eyes darting around her home. 

“Sorry about the—” she stopped and motioned around her. “There may still some lingering dust and whatnot. I tried to air the place out. I had a bi-weekly housekeeping service come while I was at your house, but it doesn't seem like—” 

“Felicity,” Oliver interrupted, his tone patient. “It's alright.” 

She nodded and moved away from the door, just a little. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or a beer maybe? I think there are a couple in the fridge.” 

Oliver shook his head. He wanted a clear mind for this. “No, I'm good. Thank you.” 

Felicity nodded again and took up wringing her hands once more. 

“Felicity,” Oliver started, moving to close the space between them. “I--I think I know what happened. I just need to know, for sure. But before all that I need to say something I should've said months ago.” 

“Okay.” 

Oliver took a deep breath and lowered his gaze. He took her hands in his and looked in her eyes. “I love you.” 

Felicity gasped and tried to take a step away from him, shaking her head. “What?” 

Oliver repeated himself. “I love you. I should've told you months ago. The fact that you're surprised by that is more telling than anything” 

Felicity stared at him, like she couldn't quite process anything he'd just said. 

He moved a step closer to her, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek. “Six months ago my life was going in the direction I thought, and I was mostly okay with that. Things changed when you walked back into my life. I'm not going to let you walk back out of it again without a fight this time. I should've tried harder before, but you were so sure and I'd never seen you like that. Regardless of why I should've fought harder; I didn't know how to then, but I do now, so—” 

He stepped in ever closer to her, making her tilt her head back to look at him. “I want to be with you. I miss you when you're not around. I fell for you all over again and this time I can't just walk away. So, if what you said when we first broke up is still true, then I'll forget all about this. But I don't think it was—is true. Right?” 

Felicity's lips trembled, but her gaze remained steady on him. She shook her head and he could see tears standing in her eyes. “No, it wasn't true then.” 

“And now?” he whispered. 

“I—you mean so much to me Oliver, and that's—” Felicity looked away from him and sighed. “That's really scary for me.” 

Her confession should've frightened Oliver, but he finally felt like he understood. 

“Okay,” he replied. “I can work with that.” 

Felicity brought her hand up to the middle of his chest. He found it a little difficult to breathe, but he moved in closer, lowering his head and capturing her lips. 

It wasn't the right moment for this, but Oliver couldn't think of doing anything but. She was soft against him, and his arms reached out to pull her tighter to him. 

She sighed against his lips and parted hers just enough for him to run his tongue along her bottom lip. This kiss felt like understanding and heat, history and love. He moved his hands to cradle the base of her head, his thumbs pressing against the hollow behind her ears. She used to love when he did that.

And still loved by the way she pressed her body into his and moaned. And just like that, their kiss went up in flames. They settled into their old rhythm. It felt familiar, and new all in one. She tasted the same, and yet she didn't. And he wanted more of it. So much more. 

Oliver felt Felicity's fingers at the edge of his Henley, then her fingertips on the skin of his waist. Her fingers were cold, and it shocked him back into the present. 

He pulled away, so reluctantly, from the kiss and looked down into her flushed face. Her lips were puffy and damp. When she opened her eyes, they were hazy and unfocused. He felt like beating his chest a little. 

“We still have so much to talk about, Felicity.” 

She shook her head. “Later.” 

“Felicity—” 

“I'm not going anywhere, Oliver.” She stared up at him and he tried to ignore the feeling of her hands on his skin. When she moved her fingers toward his belt buckle, his intent grew fuzzy. 

“I—I want you,” she said as she leaned into him, her clothed chest rubbing against his Henley. He could feel her heat and he'd wanted her for so long, but... 

“Are you sure?” he asked. They shouldn't. They really shouldn't, but then she popped up on her toes and kissed under his jaw to his ear and whispered yes. 

There wasn't any way he could've resisted that. 

He asked again when they got to her bedroom. They shed clothes along the short walk. Stopping from time to time to press one another against various pieces of furniture or whatever available flat surface was near. 

He'd lost his shirt, belt, and shoes while managing to remove her shirt, bra and soft yoga pants. 

“You and those pants,” he breathed against her mouth. His fingers ran smooth circles over one breast, then the other. The tips of his fingers brushed over her hardened nipples, making her press further into him.

“What?” She shook her head a little, trying to unbutton his jeans. 

“They make your ass look fantastic.” He let his hands skim down her body until they gripped the globes of her ass. He bent over slightly, bringing his head closer to hers. “Am I cleared to pick you up now, doc?” 

She nodded, shivering against him as he hauled her up. He kept one hand on her rear, and moved the other behind her left knee, wordlessly encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. He groaned when she complied. 

He walked the short distance to her bedroom, not bothering to look at anything other than the bed. Which was covered in clothes. 

“Shit,” she muttered, pressing against his chest. “Put me down, and I'll—” 

“I don't care about the clothes, Felicity.” 

“I do. I don't want them to get wrinkled. They're all clean.” 

“I'll iron them for you. How 'bout that?” He didn't wait for a reply before capturing her lips again and sitting on the edge of her bed, letting her settle into his lap. 

He pulled her into him, not liking how far away she ended up. His hands traveled down to her butt again to bring her closer. He panted as she rubbed against him, her hard nipples against his sparse chest hair making him growl. He could feel her wet against him, the dark spot growing against her light gray underwear. 

“Felicity?” His voice was low and heated. He watched her hazy eyes pop open and try to find his. “Are you sure you want this?” 

She nodded and grabbed the back of his head, kissing him and rubbing herself against him in a way he knew he'd always remember. 

“Can I touch you?” Oliver asked, breaking away from the kiss, trailing bites down her neck. Felicity stilled for a moment before scratching her nails across his scalp. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

Oliver kept one hand on her ass while the other played with the band of her panties at her thigh. 

His knuckles brushed over the damp fabric between her thighs, his thumb coasting over her hardened clit. 

“Oliver,” she gasped and leaned back, the motion elongating her torso, and pushing her pussy further into his hand. 

He continued to tease her over the fabric of her panties. Enjoyin the way she writhed in his lap and pressed against him. 

Her mouth opened and closed several times and she tried to move herself harder against him. But he wanted this to last, he didn't want to rush through it. 

He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to know that this was something she needed from him. 

“Oliver please,” she said in a whine. Her hands moved down his chest, across his abs, her fingers tracing each delineated muscle. 

“What do you want, Felicity?” 

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, sighing before speaking. “I want you to touch me.” 

“I already am.” 

“Oliver,” she hissed through her teeth as his fingers continued their light torture over her panties. “Inside. On me. I want your fingers on me, please.” 

“Stand up,” he replied, his voice gruff and low. 

Felicity pulled back and leveled a look at him. “Please,” he added, moving her back from his lap. 

She wobbled a bit a she stood before him, naked except for the tiny scrap of underwear. Looking up into her face, he hooked his fingers into the edge of her panties, pulling them slowly down her thighs. When they reached her knees, she wiggled, letting them pool at her feet. 

He trailed his hands between her thighs, enjoying the impatience that radiated off of her. He dropped his hand away from her body and sat back, ignoring her muttered curse. 

He let his eyes trail up her body, cataloging the beauty of her body and the difference from years ago. She stood before him now as a woman who carried a lot with her, different simply by the passage of time and circumstances. But, she wore it well. 

He watched her feet, toes gripping the floor beneath them; the shift of her legs and dimpled knees; the thickness of her thighs and dewy center; her ass that made him want to weep with joy; her lush belly; her breasts that fit perfectly in his hands. 

“You're so beautiful,” the awe in his tone clear. He saw that blush he loved crawl down her chest, her nipples growing harder and pinker. 

She moved back to him then, kneeling in front of him. He shook his head and reached for her, but she backed away. 

“It's only fair that you get undressed,” she said. “I think it'll be more fun if both of us are naked.” 

She moved her hands to his button fly, swiftly getting it undone. He sighed as the pressure from his jeans eased over his cock. He lifted his hips to help her slide his jeans from his body, and reclined back on his elbows. Her hands trailed up his legs and toyed with the edges of his boxer briefs. 

She looked into his eyes as her hands trailed over the fabric as his thighs, squeezing, kneading, and generally driving him a little crazy. 

His heart beat wildly in his chest as her fingers moved closer to his length, but teased just along the edge; he could feel the heat from her fingers and wanted them wrapped around him. 

“It isn't fun to be teased, is it?” she breathed out. The smirk on her face was almost his undoing. She got up from her kneeling position and leaned over him, keeping her eyes on his until she leaned down, placing a kiss on his lower abdomen, right above the band of his boxer briefs. 

And just like that, his desire to go slow evaporated. 

He sat up, reaching for her hands, and pulling her gently over him. He He kept a tight grip on her thighs as he turned them over, settling her back against her clothes strewn bed. 

He pressed his hips down into hers reflexively, the heat of her obvious through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. His lips trailed up and down her neck, while her hands moved to the band of his underwear, trying to remove the final layer between them. 

“Need you,” she moaned as his lips sucked at her collarbone. She brought her knees up to his side and swiveled her hips. Oliver cursed, his lips finding hers, grabbing her thighs, and pressing hard against her. 

“Felicity, I want to taste you, please,” he said as he nipped at her lips. 

“Later. I want you in me, now.” She threw her head back and gave a long moan as he rubbed his still-covered length against her clit. 

Oliver held onto that hope as he stood up from the bed, pushing his underwear to the ground. He stood back, looking at her reclined against the bed—Venus in repose—flushed and ready, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

He grabbed the base of his cock, pumping slowly as he watched her watching him. “Condom?” he asked in a strangled voice. 

Felicity sat up and reached for her nightstand with one hand, the other coming up to join Oliver’s hand around his length. He groaned, his head falling forward to watch her fingers move with his, easily catching the rhythm he set.

“Felicity…”

Taking the condom out of the drawer, she ripped into in with her free hand and teeth, taking exquisite care as she rolled it down him. 

Oliver barely waited for the condom to be fully on before leaning forward to move her back on the bed, his lips coming down on hers once more.

He moved his hands to the back of her thighs, pushing her along the bed, nearly tipping her head over the side. 

“Are you sure?” he asked once more. 

“Yes, Oliver, please—_oh_.”

He let the tip of his cock graze over her hardened clit, unable to resist teasing her just a bit more. He loved the flush that covered her skin, the way she said his name, the way she couldn’t stay still against him. So much about this was new, but so much of it was familiar as well. He hadn’t felt quite this content in longer than he could remember.

He leaned down over her, brushing strands of damp hair out of her face, her labored breathing dragging her nipples across his chest. 

“I love you,” he whispered before entering her, not taking his eyes from her as he slid into her body. 

He kissed her, slowly, throughly as his hips setting a torturously slow rhythm. 

Felicity wrapped her arms legs around him, pulling him in closer, her back bowing off the bed. 

She muttered nonsense against his lips, biting and kissing in turn. 

“Oliver,” she sighed, “harder.”

He lifted her left leg up higher, and complied with her demand. Each stroke moved them a little farther toward the opposite side of her bed, Felicity’s head starting to go over the side. 

“Are you—” he paused for a moment until he felt her squeeze her inner muscles around him. The slickness of her heat making him groan aloud.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered as he drove into her harder, but at the same slow speed.

She started to gasp and brought a hand down between them, her knuckles brushing over his stomach as she reached for her clit. 

Oliver groaned, biting down on her neck as she came around him. Their labored breathing and the slight squeak of the bed the only sounds in the room. 

Once she started to come down, Oliver sped up, needing to find his release. Felicity brought a hand up to his cheek and smiled, her fingertips brushing along his bottom lip.

“Come,” she whispered to him, “I want to feel you.”

And like he knew he’d probably do for the rest of his days, he complied. 

* * *

Lying tucked into Oliver's side felt so much like home, Felicity didn't ever want to move. 

Her head rested in the crook of his neck and she had one leg slung low across his hips. One of his hands moved up and down the column of her spine while he walked the fingers of his other hand from behind her knee.

She sighed and moved further into him, wanting to be surrounded by him. She couldn't think of a time, at least not in her recent history, where she'd been so content. To just be in the moment—take in and feel everything. She knew there were things to say, that there was an incomplete conversation to be had, but that didn’t scare her. It didn’t make her want to pull away from him. She was exactly where she wanted to be at that moment. 

Oliver's lips brushed over her forehead—breaking into her mental reverie. His lips moved back and forth over her hairline, the feeling warm and comforting. 

She let one of her hands brush against the sparse hair of his chest, running over his nipples-- then down his firm, sculpted stomach. She grabbed his hand that coasted up and down her leg, intertwining their fingers. She brought his hand up to her lips to kiss along his knuckles. 

“I love you,” Oliver whispered. She looked up at him and saw nothing but truthfulness in his gaze. 

She wanted to say it, she felt it, but the words wouldn't pass her lips. Not at the moment. 

Instead she moved her body over his, sliding her leg all the way across so she sit astride him. She leaned down over him, their still slightly damp torsos pressing together. 

She kissed him, rocking her hips over his growing length. Her fingers laced through his hair. It felt almost unbearably soft against the palms of her hands. His arms wrapped around her back, eliminating the little bit of space that had been between them. 

He groaned against her mouth and the sound reverberated through her entire body. She wanted to live in this moment for as long as she could. Damn the whatever came after. 

Felicity pulled back from the kiss and sat up over him. She felt powerful and desired as she took in the way his eyes roamed over her body. She smirked and leaned towards her bedside table, intent to feel him inside her once again. 

“Wait,” he whispered, sitting up along with her, and it made Felicity groan. They both shuddered as she brought her knees down, moving further over him. 

He kissed her roughly before breaking away, his lips trailing down her neck.

“Felicity,” he breathed out against her. His lips, and teeth, and tongue, brushing and biting and tasting until he reached her ear. “I still really want to taste you. Can I?”

Felicity shivered against him and nodded, smiling as he turned them, his body hovering over hers. Her hands reached for the headboard as his fingers trailed between the valley of her breasts, down her stomach, his pace unhurried, his touch whisper light. 

He’d just moved his lips down to follow his fingers when the shrillness of Felicity’s phone ringing broke into the moment. He paused, looking at her, a question in his eyes.

“Ignore it,” she implored.

“Are you—” 

“Yes, sure. Very sure,” she nodded and reached to pull him up to her kiss her. 

The phone stopped ringing a moment later. Then started up again, this time, the text message tone chiming at regular intervals. And the mood instantly shifted in the room.

“I think you’d better get that,” Oliver said, dropping a kiss to her cheek as he pulled back. 

Felicity nodded, her stomach growing tight with worry. There were only a few people who would try to get her so incessantly.

She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of bed, murmuring a ‘thank you’ when Oliver handed her his Henley.

She grabbed her phone from her bedside table, her heart dropping as she read the screen. She threw her phone down on the bed and scrambled to the bathroom, turning the faucet on to wash her face. She pushed the overlong sleeves of Oliver’s shirt out of the way as she cupped her hands under the too hot water.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice filtered in from the room. “What’s happening?”

She looked at her reflection and cringed. Her chin and neck were red, and it looked like she had a hickey forming near her collarbone.

“Felicity.”

She jumped and turned to see Oliver standing in the doorway, shirtless, jeans unbuttoned. “Get dressed, I’ll drive you.”

She nodded and she felt the sting of tears begging to be let go. 

* * *

Felicity and Oliver rushed into the hospital. They didn't need to be told where to go this time. 

He held on tightly to her hand, and she let him, not sure she had the strength to push him away.

They got off of the elevator at the fourth floor and walked toward her father’s room. The hospital was still. The intermittent beeps and low rumbles of machines broke into the quiet. 

Oliver squeezed her hand as she stopped in front of the door to her father’s hospital room. 

“I’ll be right out here,” he spoke softly, his thumb rubbing over hers.

She shook her head. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t know if—if something--”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he stated, and Felicity heard the resolve in her voice. It wouldn't be worth it to argue with him

She popped up on her to toes to brush a kiss along his jaw. She didn’t want to run from him or this, and she wanted him to know that, even in the smallest possible way.

“Thank you.” He slowly let go of her hand and walked a little ways down the hall to the waiting area. 

Felicity took a deep breath, not ready at all, and pushed the door open. 

The room was cold and felt hollow. The only sounds were the occasional sniffle from her mother and the rattling breath of her father on the bed. 

“The doctor said that his blood pressure is low,” Laurel whispered into the quiet. Her words were steady, but Felicity could hear the pain in her tone. 

Sara sat at the foot of the bed, silent tears streaming unchecked down her face. She hadn't turned to acknowledge Felicity, but when she put a hand on Sara's shoulder, she shrank away. 

“Mom.” Felicity moved towards where her mother sat on Quentin's left side, his hand cradled in her lap. 

Donna looked up, her usually bright blue eyes were tinged with red and watery. Any makeup she'd worn that day a distant memory. 

Donna moved one of her hands from Quentin's to the side of Felicity's face. 

“We'll be okay.” Donna nodded and looked over toward Laurel. “We have each other, we'll be okay.” 

The four women stayed with him, huddled close to one another. They let the tears course down their cheeks as Quentin took his final breath.

* * *

They buried Retired Detective Quentin Larry Lance on a Tuesday. 

Felicity and Laurel had worked together, keeping the majority of the burden off of Donna. Her grief had her vacillating between catatonic and mania. 

Sara had withdrawn, holding herself up in a hotel with Nyssa until the day of the funeral. 

Felicity and Laurel anticipated this, so they were able to continue on doing what needed to be done. 

The Tuesday they buried him was bright and warm. Like the sun and the air hadn’t gotten the message that four women were burying pieces of their hearts that day. Felicity thought, in her more hopeful moments, that maybe her father was trying to tell them something.

But it seemed more likely that nature decided to be be ironic that day. 

The closed, flag draped casket laid at the front of the room. It was surrounded by sprays of flower arrangements from the Mayors Office and Union of Police-- from the therapists at Starling City General, from the Starling City Archers, and from individuals who’d known and loved Quentin.

Felicity sat still by her mother. Their hands clutched together as people stopped by to offer their condolences and share their loved of the Quentin.

Felicity fought the urge that crawled up her spine and whispered in her ear for her to leave. These people were offering their best, but they didn’t know. None of them knew how it felt to sit here and try to keep it together while her mother sobbed beside her.

She knew Oliver was there, had seen him walk in. She'd watched him give his condolences to her mother, Laurel, and Sara. He’d stopped and kissed her on the cheek, asking if she wanted him to sit beside her. 

She declined, not out of malice, but out of desperation. There was no way that she would make it through the service with Oliver by her side. She’d feel safe to breakdown, and she couldn’t do that today. Not with her mother on the verge, and Sara in fight or flight mode. She had to hold it together for everyone around her. 

She felt Iris squeeze her hand as the priest gave his final benediction. Quentin’s Irish Catholic background and she and her mother's own Judaism (though non-practicing) was an interesting mix in the beginning. But she had to admit—the Catholics knew how to throw a beautiful funeral.

She turned to see Joe West, who sat beside Iris get up and join five other police officers--all in their dress uniforms—at her father’s casket. 

They lifted it with ease. They stopped before an inconsolable Donna, for a moment, then made the journey to the hearse at the bottom of the church stairs. 

Felicity and Iris stood on either side of Donna, each one of them supporting an arm as they led her out of the church. Felicity looked over to where Oliver sat and was surprised to see Thea, Diggle, Lyla, Coach Steele, and Moira Queen there beside him.

She looked away, directing her eyes forward to the doors of the church. 

* * *

The sun beat down, warm and bright as they sat at the gravesite.

Felicity tuned in an out as the final benedictions were read, her eyes focused on the casket before her. Her mother sat somewhat unresponsive beside her. 

Her mother didn’t last once the flag that’d been draped over Quentin’s casket was placed in her hands. The tears started to pour once again, her body listing into Felicity's.

Donna rested her head on Felicity’s shoulder. Hot tears splashed down her arms as they watched Quentin’s descent into the ground. Donna and Felicity stood together. They each grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it on top of the casket. Donna turned, taking Felicity with her, and they walked away from the gravesite.

“I can’t say goodbye anymore, baby girl,” Donna whispered, her hands cupping Felicity’s face. “Plus, people are coming over to the house. I wish we hadn’t said our house, it’s a mess and—”

“Mom,” Felicity interrupted. “It’ll be okay. You don’t have to do anything more than necessary. And if you decided to spend the repast away from everyone else, I’m sure that would be fine. And let me worry about the house.”

“Oh honey.” Donna wiped away a stray tear from her face. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t been good these past couple of days, you must feel—”

“Mom, stop. Alright. I am fine.”

Donna shook her head. “Don’t do that, Felicity, please. I haven’t seen you fall apart not once.”

“Let’s go home, mom.”

Donna leaned heavily on Felicity as they slowly made their way back to the waiting car. Sara and Nyssa were already inside, huddled together in the ‘L’ shaped seat. 

Donna scooted over and patted Sara’s knee. The younger woman didn’t draw back from her, but she didn’t acknowledge her either. They waited a few more minutes for Laurel to climb into the car and made the short journey back to Donna and Quentin’s home.

* * *

  
Oliver stood beside Diggle and Lyla, attempting to look around the room for Felicity. Thea, his mother, and Coach Steele left them when they got to the house, walking farther into the room.

He didn’t want to crowd her. He'd decided to give her a fair amount of space since her father died. He knew—with absolute certainty—that none of this was about him, but he wanted to be there for her. He wanted her to _let_ him be there for her. 

“I don’t see her either, man,” Diggle said from beside him. 

Oliver looked at his friend and nodded. There was no use in pretending.

“Oliver?” a soft voice spoke from behind their group. Donna Lance stood there, smaller than usual without her heels. Her eyes were watery, her face splotchy, and for a quick moment he saw so much of Felicity in her. 

“Thank you for coming, sweetheart.” She held her arms out for an embrace and Oliver didn’t hesitate to step into them. She pulled back from the embrace, looking at the group assembled around Oliver. “And your friends as well.”

“John Diggle,” Digg spoke up, extending a hand. “And my wife, Lyla. We’re friends of Felicity’s. We’re so sorry for your loss.”

“Oh,” Donna breathed out, wiping hastily at her eyes. “Thank you. It means so much that you’re here for Felicity.” Donna gave a small smile and turned her attention to Oliver. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Oliver nodded and walked over to an unoccupied corner with Donna. There was a small circle of chairs set up out of the way.

“Thank you for coming today, Oliver,” Donna began. She sat down and patted the set beside her. “I know you didn’t know Quentin, not really, but it means a lot to me. And I know it does to Felicity as well.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Donna.”

Donna patted his hand. “You’re a good man, Oliver. I’m glad you came back into Felicity’s life. You were always such a kind young man. I knew you’d turn out to be a good one.”

Oliver ducked his head, not comfortable with the praise. He knew it wasn't the time to point out how much of a screw up he’d been, given the right set of circumstances.

“I just wanted to ask you to—I know I shouldn’t say anything—but, please don’t give up on Felicity, alright?”

Oliver’s head snapped up, and he met tearful blue eyes. “I have no intention of doing that, Donna. I don’t ever want to be without your daughter again.”

Donna made a sound that was half-cry, half-laugh. “Felicity takes so much on. She and Laurel did the most of everything after…well…I just couldn’t handle it. So I let them do it, even though I know I probably shouldn’t have. But she hasn’t…she’s not letting herself feel anything. And I watched her do similar things throughout the years. She thinks keeping her emotions at arm’s length will keep her from getting hurt, but it’s only hurting her, so—just don’t let her push you away, okay? She won’t admit it, but she needs you.”

“I need her too,” Oliver replied without hesitation. “Thank you, Donna. And I’m so sorry.”

Oliver felt so helpless as he watched tears start to spill down her cheeks. “I only had Quentin for a short time, I mean, seven years isn’t long. Felicity’s been in love with you for longer than that, but he was—he was so good. I miss him so much.”

Oliver laid a hand on the one she’d rested on his, not knowing what else to offer. 

“Felicity’s in the kitchen, I think,” Donna said, wiping her face with a tissue that’d seen better days. “I don’t think she knows I saw her sneak away.”

Oliver nodded and stood with her, hugging her once more. She patted his cheek and made her way through the house, stopping every so often to receive condolences. Oliver made his way towards Diggle and Lyla who stood near the food table. 

“Are you guys alright?”

Lyla nodded. “Don’t worry about us, Oliver. Go find Felicity.”

Oliver gave a tight smile and walked off in what he hoped to be the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

Felicity did her best to stay away from the people offering their condolences. She could not hear one more ‘he lived such a full life’ or ‘such a shame—cancer is awful isn’t it? Or any variations on that theme. She didn’t want to hear about being in anyone’s thoughts or prayers. Or whatever other empty platitudes of ‘I’m here if you need me’ when they wouldn’t be. Because how do you let someone be there for you—day in and day out—just to make it easier to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving on?

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice came from over her shoulder and she jumped a little. She stood at the kitchen sink, her hands soapy and wet as scrubbed serving dishes and empty pie plates. 

“Hey,” she replied, turning back to the dishes in the sink.

He sidled up to her and kissed the side of her head. She heard a rustle of fabric and turned to see him shedding his black suit jacket and rolling up shirtsleeves. He grabbed a clean dish towel and took up a spot next to her at the sink, his body close enough to hers to feel his heat. 

He stood beside her--neither of them talking. He took each dish she finished rinsing, to dry, their rhythm steady and seamless. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask if she was okay, didn’t need anything from her in that moment. And it was just enough to open the floodgates. 

The dish she had in her hand slipped, clattering to the basin as she bent in half, gripping the side of the sink. 

Oliver’s arms were there, surrounding her, pulling her up and into his body. One hand cradled the back of her head, while the pressed against her shuddering back. He muttered loving words in her ear, telling her he was there, and that he would be.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay with me, Felicity,” he whispered against her hair. “Not ever.”

They stood that way for an undetermined amount of time. Her breath began to even out and she pressed her face deeper into his chest.

“I think I ruined your shirt,” she muttered against him. She felt his rumbling laugh against her cheek. 

“It doesn’t matter.” They swayed a little against one another. Their bodies drawn together like magnets.

“I’m sorry for falling apart on you.”

“Felicity. I want to be here for you, in whatever capacity you need me.”

Felicity pulled back, inclining her head to look up into his face. “Thank you,” she said simply, but she hoped he heard all the things she couldn’t say.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”


	7. Epilogue: Full Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the road.
> 
> This chapter is rated M.

Felicity sat in her office, twirling a crisp, linen envelope between her hands. The words 'Dr. Fei ' were clearly written across the front. Felicity needed to get up and walk the letter down to Dr. Fei to submit her final resignation, but her feet wouldn't take her. 

She'd grown a lot since starting at SCG. Been given a lot of leeway and opportunity. She'd made her mark and it showed. The work she'd done made her proud, but stepping into SCG now made her ache. It made her unfocused. 

She couldn't continue on that way. 

So, she'd called Coach Steele and accepted his generous offer to be head trainer. She hadn't talked to Oliver about it yet, but they would. 

After her father's funeral, Oliver had stayed and helped around her parents’ home. He’d helped put away dishes and put back chairs, and all the other manual labor tasks they’d needed. He'd stayed nearby the entire day, lending his strength and comfort. If she hadn't already been convinced that Oliver loved her, that would've done it. 

They'd left her mother's house—at her mother's insistence—and gone back to Oliver's. 

She stayed there all week, going back and forth to help her mother with boxes of her father's papers and things they couldn't bear to part with. 

Each evening when she returned to Oliver's, it felt more and more like home. 

Like he was home. 

She'd been back at the hospital for two days (after her week long bereavement break) before deciding she couldn't be there anymore. She drafted a resignation letter—signed, sealed, but not quite delivered. 

A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. 

“Come in,” Felicity said in a low voice. 

The door swung open and Moira Queen walked through. She looked crisp and cool, as if the sweltering late summer heat didn't affect her at all. 

“Felicity, dear,” Moira started, shutting the door firmly behind her. “Do you have a minute?” 

Felicity stood from her desk, her body a little stiff and awkward. She knew a baffled look covered her face, but she didn't do anything to change that. 

“Uh, sure, Mrs. Queen. Would you care to sit?” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk and sat back down once Moira did. “Is everything alright?” Panic started to course though her. “Did something happen to—” 

“Oh, no, darling.” Moira brought her chair a little closer to the desk. “No, not at all. I'm sorry to worry you. Everyone is fine. I just thought you and I should have a nice chat.” 

Moira's words did nothing to quell the fear rising in Felicity. She put on her best unaffected face and sat back in her chair. 

“Okay, Mrs. Queen.” 

“Thank you, and it's Moira, dear. I think you're close enough to my family now for something a little less formal.” 

Felicity nodded, but gave no other response. 

“I think it's time to lay some things out on the table.” Moira's hands were clutched together in her lap. Her face open and direct. 

“Oliver, and I believe you as well, thought that I didn’t care for you. Or don’t care for you. Honestly, that couldn’t be further from the truth, Felicity. You’re a smart, capable woman who brings out the best in my son. But, I was concerned. About what Robert could possibly do.

“I had no idea Robert had threatened you all those years ago,” she stated, running her hands over her creaseless skirt. “I didn't know until Oliver told me. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Felicity, and I'm sorry you had to bear the burden of Robert's indiscretions.” 

Felicity bit back a retort at “indiscretions.” It made the years of affairs seem like some flip thing that’d only happened once. Felicity waited for Moira to continue. 

“When Oliver told me, I…well.” Felicity watched Moira Queen’s shoulders drop. She leaned a little away from Felicity’s desk and sighed. “One day, you’ll know what it’s like to want to protect your children at all costs. I haven’t done the best job, but I’ve tried,” she paused and gave Felicity a kind smile. “I won’t say I wasn’t happy about you and Oliver breaking up because it kept you away from the house and away from Robert." 

Felicity’s mouth dropped open. “Mrs. Queen, I would never—” 

“Felicity, please,” Moira interrupted, holding up a hand. “I know that very well. I know you’d never give into Robert, but I didn’t want you to be even a little affected by him. He’s not a good man. And I don’t know all of the things he said to you, but I would take them with a grain of salt.” 

“Why was I the exception?” Felicity asked.

Moira’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I mean, Moira, that you said Robert Queen wasn’t a good man. Yet you stood by and continued to let him have these affairs. You knew about them and other young women, I suppose.”

Moira swallowed thickly and looked down at her hands. “There isn’t really an excuse except for it would’ve devastated Oliver, and I couldn’t let that happen. He and Thea are the only good things that Robert’s ever done in his life, and yes it was selfish of me, and I live with that guilt every day. But I couldn’t save everyone, Felicity. Even if I’d wanted to.”

Felicity took in Moira’s posture and countenance. She almost felt bad for the woman. But regardless of what Moira Queen said, her actions were pretty self-explanatory.

“Any way, I just want to tell you that—I’m sorry.”

“What?” Felicity blurted, unable to catch herself.

Moira smiled—genuinely. It looked so out of place. “I’m not surprised that you’re shocked, but I do mean it, Felicity. Oliver has been a different person since you came back into his life. He’s better, happier. A parent couldn’t ask for anything more, honestly.” Moira stood and Felicity quickly did the same. “I just wanted to say that, and let you know that I’m very happy about you and Oliver.”

Felicity’s face must have displayed her confusion. “I heard from Thea that you two are together. That makes me very happy. You’re good for him, Felicity. And I can admit that I was wrong all those years ago, but maybe all the intervening years were a good thing.”

“Thank you, Moira,” Felicity replied. She didn’t really understand what was happening, but decided to go with it. “And thank you for stopping by.”

Moira smiled again and turned to leave, but paused. “I’m also so glad to hear you’ve decided to work with The Archers. I’m sure Oliver’s thrilled.”

That gave Felicity pause. No one—not even Iris—knew she’d agreed to take the position. She’d just spoken to Coach Steele the prior evening. 

“How do you know that?”

Felicity watched as Moira pushed at a piece of hair that wasn’t out of place. “Well, Coach Steele told me.”

Felicity shook her head and straightened up a little. “I have a feeling there’s some sort of story there, and I’m completely uninterested, Moira. I’m done keeping secrets for your family. If you have something going on with Coach Steele—and please do not say anything either way to me right now—then you’re going to tell your children. And I’m going to stay out of it.”

Moira nodded. “That’s understandable. Any way, I’m sure you’ll want to tell Oliver yourself about your job, so you don’t have to worry about him hearing it from me.”

* * *

Oliver heard the garage door open and tried to stay the excitement that coursed through him. 

Felicity’d been staying with him since her father’s passing. He didn’t question it, didn’t wonder whether or not it was prudent. Especially given all the things that were still unspoken between them. He found himself exceedingly grateful that each evening had her coming home to him, and not running away from him.

They hadn’t talked, but he knew they would. She continued to look for him, to rely on him. She didn’t mention going back to her own home. That had to be a step in the right direction.

“Hey,” her soft voice filtered through his thoughts. He looked at her and smiled. She looked a little rumpled, her usually perfect ponytail slightly askew.

“Hey,” he replied. “Long day?”

“Mhmm.” She stepped into his body and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips brushed along his jawline before moving up to his lips. She kissed him slowly, her fingers lacing through the hair at the base of his neck.

He held her tighter against him, enjoying the way she felt warm and pliant. The way her honeysuckle scent enveloped them. Her lips were soft and warm and damp against his, and he felt the need to consume her. He pulled her off of her toes, bringing her body fully in contact with his own.

Far too soon, she pulled back from the kiss. As he opened his eyes he saw her smiling up at him, shyly. 

“Can you set me back on the ground?” she asked.

Oliver shook his head. “I like where you’re at though.”

“So do I,” she laughed, “but I want to talk to you. And I think I need to be on my feet for that.”

Oliver’s body tensed, but he did what she asked, letting her feet hit the ground. She settled a hand in the middle of his chest and shook her head.

“It’s nothing bad. Just…there’s some things we need to talk about, but I want to tell you about my day first.”

“Okay.”

Oliver let himself be led through the kitchen to his living room. She sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside her. Oliver complied, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his side. 

“So,” Felicity began, nibbling at her bottom lip. “I quit my job today, well, I resigned any way, because I don't want to be there anymore. I can't.”

Oliver pulled back to look at her. She looked calm and at peace. Happy.

“Wow. That’s—are you sure. I mean—”

“Yes,” she interrupted. She squeezed his hand and stared into his eyes. “It hurts every time I go there and I—I think it’s time to move on. Start a new chapter and what not. So, in two weeks I’ll be doing just that.”

Oliver nodded and waited for her to continue.

“And I accepted Coach Steele’s offer. I know I probably should’ve said something sooner. I don’t want you to think that I wanted to keep this from you, but I really wasn’t sure. Then all of a sudden here was this great opportunity, staring me in the face and I—”

Oliver crashed his lips over hers, stopping her speech. He felt giddy and light. Unbelievably happy in that moment. She actively chose to do something that would bring her closer to him—every day. That had to mean something, right?

“Oliver,” she breathed out on a giggle as she pulled back. “There’s more, but I’m glad you’re happy about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy, Felicity? I’m going to get to see you every day.”

She titled her head to the side, her smile broadening. “You already see me every day.”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is…”

She nodded and placed a hand on the side of his face. “I’m here, Oliver. I don't feel like being halfway in this anymore. I've...I've spent a lot of time thinking about this, and it's not just because of everything that's happened. I—you mean so much to me, Oliver and I want to be in this with you. So…if you’ll have me.” She stopped and shrugged, looking down at their clasped hands. 

“Hey.” Oliver tipped her head up to look into her eyes. “I’ve wanted that for so long. I want to be with you, too. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“That’s good,” she said on a sigh. “Because I plan on it being a very long time.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, but she put two fingers on his lips. “We still have stuff to talk about, Oliver.”

“Maybe later?” he mumbled around her fingers as he lightly nipped the pads with his teeth. He felt her shiver against him and smirked. 

“No, sex later. Talking now.” She smiled at him coyly. “I promise to make the wait worth your while.”

Oliver laughed, a free, unencumbered sound, and sat back against the couch. “Alright. I can deal with that.”

“Good.” She patted lightly at his chest and couldn’t stop the growl he emitted. 

“Your mother came by my office today,” Felicity said and Oliver felt the mood in the room shift. 

“What did she do?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“Oliver, relax. She was actually very cordial to me. She apologized.”

“_My_ mother? Apologized? Did I miss the flying pigs?”

Felicity threw her shoulder into his, jostling him a bit on the couch. “You’re a regular laugh riot, Oliver Queen.”

“So, I’ve been told.” 

Felicity shook her head at him and continued. “She wanted to say sorry about your father. About him threatening me. She said she didn’t know. She also said she was happy we’d broken up at first, but she’s happier for us now.”

Oliver’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. That’s—that’s almost unbelievable, Felicity. Though, ever since you came back into my life, my mother’s gone out of her way in regards to you, so… I guess I’m just a little shocked that my mother gives a damn.” Oliver trailed off, his eyes flitting over Felicity’s features. 

“Your mother loves you a lot, Oliver.” 

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “So you say.”

“So I know. She said as much. She may not have been the best mother, but she does love you. Any way, she also wanted to congratulate me on my new job.”

“My mother knew about your job before I did?” Oliver didn’t know whether or not to be hurt by this revelation. 

Felicity nodded. “She’s apparently in touch with Coach Steele on a regular basis.”

“Okay,” Oliver said slowly. “That’s…odd. Right? That’s not just me thinking it’s weird. You don’t think that—”

“I didn’t ask her, and she didn’t tell me,” Felicity interrupted, holding up a hand. “I let her know that I’m done keeping secrets from you, so if she has something to tell you, she can do it herself. I no longer want to be in the midst of Queen family drama, if I can help it.”

“That makes two of us.” He smiled and leaned forward, kissing her sweetly on the nose. “You’ve had a pretty busy day. Anything else happen?”

“Yeah,” she started. She looked down at the hand clutched against his chest and loosened her grip just a bit. 

“Your mom also said that I should take what your dad said to me with a grain of salt, so, we need to talk about that. Without yelling.” Her grip on his shirt tightened and he forced himself to focus on the moment and not one in the not so distant future. 

“Our senior year, the last week, I went over to your house looking for you. And found your dad first. He—he told me that you were busy...with McKenna.” Oliver didn't know what crossed his face, but it made her tense and hurry on. “I didn't believe him. Well, I didn't want to believe him. I had no reason to, but your father just he had a way a of…” She shook her head and continued, staring at the middle of his chest.

“Anyway, I should've just gone up and asked you, but, he'd told me that Queen men weren't faithful, and I had no reason to doubt you, but I also didn't want to see him be right. I tried to let go of it, but then, the next day I ran into Tommy in the hall at school.” 

Oliver sat forward, leaning into her. “What did Tommy say?”

“He…” she stopped and sighed. “He didn’t see me, or I didn’t think he did at the time. He was talking to some of your mutual friends about you and McKenna. He said that you told him that staying with me for so long was a mistake. Especially when girls like McKenna existed. And that she was more…adventurous than I was. That you couldn’t believe you waited so long to hook up with her.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Tommy. But all of that just swirled around in my head, and the things your dad said…I… They weren’t true were they?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, they weren’t. I never cheated on with McKenna. Or anyone.”

Felicity stood quickly, a gasping sob leaving her mouth. “Oh God, Oliver.” She started to pace in front of the couch, wringing her hands. “I’m so stupid. I let…I…years Oliver. All the years we’ve…how do you not hate me?”

“I could never hate you.” Oliver stood and pulled her into his arms to stop her pacing. He rested his head against the top of hers and felt hot tears soak his t-shirt. “I love you. Yes, I wish you’d trusted me, and yeah, communicating is something we’re definitely going to have to work on, but who knows, Felicity? Who knows if we would’ve ended up here, or still been together. I mean, I would’ve loved the chance to know that, but we can’t rewrite the past, so let’s stop trying to.”

She pulled her head away from him chest, her face creased and tear streaked. “I’m so sorry.”

Oliver nodded. “McKenna needed some help, and I—”

“No, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Felicity…”

“I trust you, Oliver. This is me trusting you. Doing what I should’ve done then.” She let her hands slide up his chest, stopping at his shoulders. She bit her lip and smiled up at him. “I love you, Oliver.”

He could only imagine what his face looked like at the moment as Felicity laughed against his lips. She tasted a little salty from her tears, but it was perfect.

“Say it again,” he breathed against her mouth.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you. So very much."

* * *

It felt different this time. 

Before, they'd still been under the cloud of the unknown. Fresh off a confession of love. One that Felicity hadn't said back that time—even though she felt it. 

This time, as they hastily stripped on the way to Oliver's bedroom, the path before them was clear. 

They were freer. Their words came easier. Their touches less scripted. 

They lived in the moment knowing that it wouldn't be the last. 

Felicity's fingers traced the prominent vein that pulsed low on his left side as she sat on the edge of his bed. He stood naked before her, and she was determined to take her time exploring him. 

She dipped her fingers into the grooves of his hips. He shuddered against her and she turned a wicked smile up at him. 

“Cold?” She asked dryly, biting back a laugh at the growl that passed his lips. 

“Felicity.” His voice low and rough caused her own body to shiver. She heard him chuckle and moved her fingers down his well-muscled thighs. 

“I've wanted to touch you like this for a long time,” Felicity whispered as she dragged her fingers down his thigh, stopping just behind his left knee. Her fingers took the opposite journey back up. She moved to his right side and repeated the same movement down that thigh. 

“Touching you after your training sessions was one of my favorite things.” 

She smiled up at him. His breath was shallow and fast, and his skin tingle beneath her fingers. 

“You're almost unreal.” She moved both her hands to his thighs, rubbing at the clenching muscles beneath her palms. “You're all hard body, and muscle, and sinew...and I get to have you.” 

Felicity let a hand trail to his cock, her finger tracing lightly over the tip. 

“Felicity,” Oliver groaned. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides. 

She drew her hand away and placed her hands behind her, leaning back at an angle. 

She watched his eyes sweep over her body and fought the urge to draw her legs together to try to relive the ache. 

“You can touch me, Oliver.” 

“You know what I want.” 

Felicity smirked and widened her legs a little. She let out a gasp as he dropped to his knees at the end of the bed. His warm hands clasped beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. 

He pressed agonizingly slow kisses up her inner thighs. She tried to squirm, needed friction or pressure or _something_ more than he offered at the moment. 

“Oliver,” she hissed out when his teeth nipped at the center of her thigh. His tongue laved at the small bite and her whole body shook at the feel. 

“Oliver,” she said again, her fingers moving to his head to grasp the short hair there. “Please.” 

“You don't have to beg,” he said, and his hot breath teased her center. “But I'm not about to rush.” 

He moved his mouth past her center to the other thigh. 

“Your body drives me crazy,” he mumbled, his lips pressed to her thigh. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” 

“A little. Oh—_oh_,” she breathed out as his tongue came in contact with her sex. “_Oliver._” 

He ignored her clit, running his tongue down her dripping folds. One hand went to her right knee, bringing it up over his shoulder, while he moved the other between her legs, slipping two fingers easily inside her. 

She fell back against the bed, her back arching, pressing herself further into his face. 

He hummed against her folds, his tongue joining his fingers. He set a slow pace, his fingers thrusting in quick, before dragging them slowly from her. His tongue running up and down her folds between each thrust. He teased her for a long time, coaxing sounds from her she didn't know she was capable of. 

She nearly shot of the bed when his lips closed over her clit. 

Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, and she couldn't stop the need to press herself harder against his mouth. 

He hummed his approval. The hand that rested on her leg moved up her side to her breast. He took her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he sucked harder on her clit. 

Felicity felt like she could float away from herself. Her body was being worked over just right and her mind filled with nothing but bursts of pleasure and the smell of sex that permeated the room. 

She heard herself beg him to go faster, or harder, something, _anything_, but he didn't comply. The warm, tingling sensation ached low in her belly. All she could do was move against his mouth as he devoured, his fingers sliding in and out. 

“_Oliver_,” her voice sounded rough and used. Oliver's hand at her nipple moved to her other breast to give it the same attention. She brought herself up on on elbow, shaking with the effort. She couldn't stop the moan that left her mouth at the sight of Oliver between her legs, intent and focused on her. 

She felt herself tighten around his fingers and gasped as he gained a little speed. 

“More, just like that, please, Oliver.” 

She fell back against the bed again when he sucked harder on her clit. She tightened the leg thrown over his shoulder, doing everything she could to be nearer to him. 

The low, steady throbbing in her belly started to crest. She felt like she was being pulled under the current as her orgasm washed over her, threatening to drown her. She'd never felt anything like it. She didn't know anything so powerful could take over her body. 

She trembled and moaned as Oliver's fingers continued their leisurely pace, pushing and pulling. Taking and giving. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered against her hip. She looked down to see him, his head rested at the top of her thigh, eyes glassy, lips damp and full. He looked obscene and so beautiful. “I want you to come again. I love watching you.” 

“Oliver.” She reached for his hand on her chest and brought it to her lips. She nipped at the pads of his fingers before taking his index finger into her mouth. 

His fingers inside her sped up and his thumb started to work her clit. She hissed and bit at his finger, amazed to feel another orgasm building. 

“Faster, please,” she pleaded, a whisper of a sound around his finger. 

Oliver placed a trail of kisses over the top of her right thigh, then her left. The scruff of his chin felt too good on her. 

She let out a hissing 'yes' as his fingers picked up speed inside her. She took his finger from her mouth and brought it back down to her breast. She interlaced their fingers over her right breast and sighed, giving her body over to the sensation. 

“You're so wet. The palm of my hand is soaked,” he said, his eyes still fixed on her. “And you taste so good. Better than I remember.” 

Felicity arched her back and let out a jumbled cache of words. She gripped the hand tangled with his over her breast, while the other clung to the sheets. 

This orgasm hit her fast. Her heart raced and her entire body radiated heat. The suddenness of it stealing her breath. 

Oliver kept his fingers moving in her and over her clit until she whimpered for him to stop. She felt him chuckle at her hip and turned unfocused eyes on him. 

“I love you.” 

Felicity knew the smile on her face was dopey and drugged, but she didn't care. “I love you, too. Get up here. I want to kiss you.” 

Felicity shook as he gently removed his fingers from her. He let her leg off of his shoulder with ease and moved over her on the bed. 

She saw his damp hand rest next to her head before his lips crashed over hers. The combination of her taste on his lips made her quake. 

She reached a hand between them and stroked his hard length. He hissed against her mouth and pulled back, his hand reaching down to still hers. 

“I want to be inside of you,” he said, planting a quick kiss on her lips. He moved off of her, pulling her along with him as he reclined back against the bed. 

She knelt beside him, her eyes cataloging every groove and muscle, the way his chest rose and fell, the way he looked at her. 

She wanted to take him in her mouth, but she knew he was too impatient at the moment, given the way his legs moved against the bed. 

She did tease him a little as she straddled him. She ran her slick heat over his lower belly, the friction against her clit making her groan. 

“I'm on birth control, are you good?” She said suddenly. She felt Oliver's breath catch beneath she and smiled down at the awestruck expression on his face. He nodded and brought his hands to her hip. 

“Yes.” 

“Good. I don't want anything between us, Oliver.” She raised herself up and grabbed his dick, lining it up with her entrance. She let herself descend, slowly, enjoying the play of emotions across Oliver's face. 

She stayed still for a moment once he was fully inside her. She arched back and tightened her muscles around her. He groaned and said her name, sitting up quickly. 

She wrapped her legs around him and they sat like that—completely surrounded by one another. 

Felicity started to circle her hips, lifting herself off of him and settling back down with short, quick movements. It wasn't deep this way, but she'd never felt closer to another person before in her life. 

He nipped at her neck and collarbone, his breath hot and ragged against her. 

Oliver brought up his knees and it shifted them just a bit. She felt fuller, felt him deeper and muttered this aloud. 

“Take what you need.” 

She moved over him with sharp, precise flicks of her hips. She leaned against his legs to change the angle. She felt her body start to quake, scratched at his upper arms and back with each snap of her hips. 

She bit her lip, she needed more. 

“What do you need?” Oliver asked, the strain apparent in his voice. 

“More, everything.” 

And suddenly they were moving. He was over her, moving hard and fast within her. 

“_Yes_,” she said as she met his thrusts, moving one leg up his side. He looped his arm behind her knee and brought it up to his shoulder. 

She cried out as the change had him hitting just the right place inside her. She vaguely felt her head knock the headboard, but she was too concerned with the man between her legs to care. 

She felt his rhythm starting to falter and knew he was close. 

“You feel so good inside me,” Felicity said. Her fingers came up to his sweaty forehead. “Come, Oliver.” 

He lowered himself and brought their bodies even closer, his pelvis rubbing against her clit with every hurried thrust. He bit down on the side of her neck as he came within her. 

Her body quaked as a slow, lazy orgasm rolled through her at the touch of his fingers on her clit. Her body clutched around his softening length. He licked at her décolletage, tasting her as he slowly disentangled their bodies. 

He laid on his back and pulled her over him. She felt boneless and spent, and deliciously achy. 

“God, we're really good at that,” she mumbled into his chest. She felt the rumble of laughter beneath her cheek as he squeezed her tight. 

She didn't remember falling asleep, but woke to Oliver gently rubbing a damp cloth between her legs. 

“You can go back to sleep,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her stomach. 

Her stomach growled beneath his lips. They laughed together as he pulled her up into a sitting position. 

“Or let's get some food. Elena left some chicken piccata.” 

Her stomach growled again and he laughed, moving across the room, gloriously naked. He moved without self-consciousness—beautiful and strong. 

He came back with a button-down shirt and a striped pair of boxers, motioning for her to stand up. She did so on slightly shaky legs, her breath catching as he helped her into his shirt. He took extreme care buttoning the buttons, dragging his fingers up the length of her body. 

Once he was finished, and she’d stepped his boxers, she wanted him again—and he was hard again. 

“Nope,” he began, stepping back. He turned and got himself a pair of boxer briefs from the drawer. He put them on and came back over to her, grabbing her hand to pull her from the room. 

“Wait,” Felicity started, “aren’t you going to put on a shirt?" 

“No, why?" 

“So, I’m just going to have to eat with all of this right in my face while I’m covered up? Hardly seems fair." 

“Are you complaining or complementing?" 

“A little of both.” She smirked, popping up on her toes to kiss his chin. She slid her hand down his chest and brushed across his cloth-covered cock. He groaned against her mouth and backed her into the wall. He’d just pushed his hands beneath her, _his_, shirt when her stomach emitted another low growl. He sighed happily against her mouth and backed away. 

“Let’s get you fed.” 

They made a meal of a loaf of perfectly crunchy french bread, various cheeses, and fruit. At one point the honey meant for the gruyère ended up being drizzled down Felicity’s chest and slowly—methodically—licked away. 

He took her from behind, her body wedged between his and the kitchen island. Their fingers entwined, sticky with residual honey. 

* * *

“So, what are we going to do about Tommy?”

Oliver paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he looked across the table at Diggle who leveled a look at him. 

Lyla had finally managed to finagle a dinner during an Archers’ bye week. Felicity sat beside him, eyes wide as she looked at him. The table also include Iris and Barry, and Thea and Roy. 

It felt good to be surrounded by family.

“Yeah,” Roy piped in. “I don’t even really know the guy, but I’d kind of like to punch him in the face.”

“Get in line,” Iris muttered as she picked up her wine glass. “I never liked that guy. I knew my gut wasn’t wrong.”

Felicity smiled at her friend. “You’re still the world’s best best friend, Iris. And you’re not punching Tommy.”

“Well,” Diggle began, “I’m pretty sure someone needs to. I volunteer my services as well.”

Oliver winced. “I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those punches, and I’m bigger than Tommy. No way he’d survive that, man.”

“Good.” Diggle smiled. 

“No one is hitting anyone, alright?” Felicity asked, leveling a look at Oliver. “I know you’re angry with him. So am I. But isn’t the best revenge just to live our lives?”

Oliver smiled and shook his head. “You’re so good. I love you.” He leaned over and kissed her, ignoring the groans and the dinner roll lobbed at his head.

“They’re always like this now,” Thea whined, but there was no heat in her tone. “It’s almost too cute. I don’t have a broody brother anymore.”

“I don’t know which is worse,” Diggle started, leaning back in his chair. “Pining Oliver or openly smitten Oliver.”

“You all are hilarious,” Oliver replied dryly. He looked over as Felicity’s hand rested on his knee. He felt like all he did was smile at her, and he couldn’t be bothered to worry about how utterly ridiculous it made him look.

“Well, I think we’ve lost them for a while,” Iris said, smirking. “We still need to do something about Tommy. He certainly can’t get away with being a dick.”

“Agreed,” Lyla added. “I don’t even know him, but he caused more trouble than he seems to be worth.”

“Hey,” Oliver interrupted, tearing his gaze away from Felicity with difficulty. “I appreciate the offers, but I think this is something I should handle.”

“Don’t you mean we?” Felicity asked. 

He turned back to her and shook his head. “No. And not because I don’t think you’re capable, but because I don’t want Tommy anywhere near you. I don’t want him to try and fill you in on the tens years between our break-up and Isabel.”

“Oliver.” Felicity touched the side of his face lightly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Let’s face whatever it is together.”

Oliver nodded. “Alright.”

“Still think the dude should get punched in the face,” Roy muttered.

“Enough about Tommy,” Iris said with a wave of a hand. “I’m positive he’ll get his just desserts.”

“Iris,” Felicity began, alarmed by the knowing smirk on her best friend’s face. “What do you—”

Iris shook her head and picked up her wine glass, tipping it in Felicity’s direction. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Felicity Smoak.”

Felicity chuckled and toasted her friend. “Give ‘em hell, Iris West.”

* * *

Felicity and Oliver walked hand-in-hand back into his home, stopping every so often to kiss against various vertical surfaces.

“Want a night cap?” Oliver asked as he flipped on the light in the kitchen.

“Sure,” Felicity replied, hopping up on the center island. She tracked Oliver’s movement around the kitchen as he opened up a cabinet for two lowball glasses and a bottle of Amaretto. 

“Do you remember the first time we tried scotch?” Oliver asked.

Felicity screwed up her face as she accepted the glass of amber liquid. “Yes, god it was awful. I still don’t get how you drink that. I remember getting so sick.”

“You stayed the night over at my house because you were too afraid to go home.”

“Mhmm. Seems like you’ve always been getting me into trouble, Oliver Queen.”

Oliver grinned at her as they clinked glasses, each of them taking healthy sip. 

Felicity’s fingers played with the hem of Oliver’s shirt. She bit nervously at her lip, trying to shore up courage to ask her question.

“I can practically hear you thinking, Felicity. Just ask me. Whatever it is.”

Felicity met Oliver’s eyes and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking…”

“Mhhm,” Oliver intoned. He spread her knees apart and stepped between them, pulling her closer to the edge of the island. “So, I’ve gathered. About what?”

“Well—oh _Oliver_—quit distracting me,” she said, but still wrapped her legs around his hips. She felt the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans as he moved his hips between her legs. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

“Okay,” he replied. He set down his glass and moved his big hands to her thighs. They moved underneath her short skirt and around to her ass. 

“_Oliver_,” she hissed as his cupped her fully and moved her hips into his. “What is it with you and this island?”

He placed biting kisses up her neck to her ear, taking her earlobe lightly between his teeth. “It’s the perfect height because you’re so petite.”

“I’m not _that_—oh, _fuck_, Oliver!” she exclaimed as he moved one hand into her soaked underwear. 

“You’re always so wet,” he mumbled against her ear. “You’re always so ready for me.”

Felicity grasped his shirt tighter as he slid one finger, then another, then another into her. She tried to thrust against his fingers, but the hand on her ass held her firmly in place. 

He was relentless, setting a fast pace that made her ache and cry out. 

“Love you like this,” he whispered. “You have no idea how beautiful you look coming around my fingers.”

“_Oliver_!” she screamed as she came, her muscles fluttering around his fingers. He continued to move his hand and she whined. He could always coax more from her than she’d ever had with any other partner. He knew her body so well, played it so well.

When he touched her clit, her vision whited out at the edges. She opened her mouth but no sound passed, just harsh, low breaths.

She reached to undo his belt as he continued to work his fingers. She clumsily threaded the leather through the buckle, her hands shaking with effort. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, working her hand between them and the layer of his boxer briefs. 

She palmed his hand length, enjoying the feel of him pulsing in her hand. He groaned against her neck and bit down when her fingers closed firmly around him. Her belly ached as her arousal flowed around his fingers. The slight squelching noise would’ve embarrassed her if she hadn’t met Oliver’s hazy eyes. 

“You’re incredible,” his soft voice made her whole body shiver and her fingers gripped his cock just a little bit tighter as she came around his fingers again.

He removed his fingers from her and hastily shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips and pulled her to the edge of the kitchen island, his hands gripping her ass. He slid her panties to the side and powered into her in one smooth, sure stroke. 

Felicity fell back against the counter trying to find some purchase against the marble. His hips were quick and forceful, moving her entire body—so completely at his mercy. 

She didn’t care about the edge of the counter against her back, didn’t care about how the kitchen seemed to be their “thing,” or the shattering sound of glass. She let herself get lost in the sensation of him filling her over and over again, and the way his hands caressed at her ass with each thrust.

Sweat dotted his upper lip, and ran down his neck. She brought a hand to where their bodies met and flicked quickly at her clit. 

“_Fuck_,” Oliver muttered and picked up speed. She felt her heat closing in around him, knew she was close to coming again. 

His rhythm faltered as he came, his fingers digging into her ass. She knew she’d feel that for the next couple of days and looked forward to it.

She came after him with a deep, sighing moan. 

He moved her so she was fully atop the counter. She winced a little at the cool marble then laughed aloud.

“This is the third time in as many days that I’ve been semi-naked in this kitchen. You have other rooms you know.”

“My apologies, Miss Smoak. Where would you like me to take you next?”

* * *

They eventually made it to Oliver’s bed, after a brief stop to attempt have sex on the stairs, but they’d stopped once Felicity deemed it as ‘dangerous and a little awkward.’ Oliver’d agreed with her so they made their way to his bed, taking each other reverently, their bodies pressed so close together. 

“Okay, I really do need to talk to you,” Felicity began. She turned her body to face his, doing her best to ignore his naked body and growing length. “Seriously, Oliver? Again?”

“I’ve waited for this for a long time, Felicity. And do you know how incredible you look all flushed and—”

“Stop talking, this is serious business, mister.”

Felicity reached over to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Low light filled the room, casting shadows into odd angles around the room. 

She moved to sit up, grabbing the bed sheet and wrapping it protectively around her. 

“You might want to put on a shirt and sit farther away,” Oliver said as he lounged on his side, head propped up against his hand. 

“You’re incorrigible, Oliver Queen.”

He grinned at her and waited. He wasn’t afraid of what she could possibly say, but incredibly curious.

“What do you think we should do about Tommy?” 

Oliver sighed and sat up, dragging the sheet over his lap. He didn’t miss the way her eyes moved down his torso, or the way her eyes lit up when he contracted his abs. 

He cleared his throat and watched a blush crawl up her neck.

“I don’t know. I feel disappointed and hurt, but Tommy’s barely been in my life these past five years, and that works for me. I don’t want his particular brand of drama any more. I grew up, he didn’t do the same. What about you?”

Felicity reached down for his hand, lacing her fingers through him. “I don’t want Tommy between us anymore. Whatever we would do or _could_ do may only cause more strife, and I think that’s not wise. We should leave Tommy firmly in the past and more forward. I don’t want you to worry about him bringing up something to hurt you or me. I’m here with you. I trust you, and I love you.”

He’d never get tired of hearing her say that. “I love you, too. So, that’s what we’ll do. No more worrying about Tommy, or my father, or anything that kept us apart. They’ve held enough power over us for so long. Let’s not give them anymore, okay? It’s you and me, and we’ll figure out the rest as it comes.”

“Alright.”

“I do, however, reserve the right to hit him if I see him again.”

Felicity shook her head. “I guess I could be okay with that.”

He leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm and a little sweet from their earlier Amaretto.

He groaned as she pulled away from him. “You’re killing me, Felicity.”

She made a derisive sound. “I think you’ll survive another five minutes without sex.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

She punched lightly at his arm. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, you know I’ve been staying here for the past few weeks.” She stopped and shrugged. “And I love being here with you, all the time, and I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to make it permanent?”

Oliver’s jaw went slack and he leaned into her. He started to say yes, but she cut across him in a rush. 

“I know it’s fast for some people, but I lived with you for six months any way. I mean, this is so much better. Your bed is lovely and getting to wake up with you every morning is something I don’t want to go back to not having. I love having coffee with you in the morning and having sex in the shower and being continually aware of where you are. I don’t want that to change. I want to be in this fully with you, no more—”

He cut her off with a sharp kiss. “Yes,” he breathed against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes. I want you to move in. I want you to be here permanently. I want you to be here forever.”

“Okay.” She gave a shaky smile and wiped at an errant tear. “I want forever, too.”

“Did you just propose to me?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “You said you wanted forever first. Did you just propose to me?”

“Maybe.”

“Oliver!”

“What?”

“We’re naked in bed! I can’t tell that story to people.”

He leaned in to kiss her. “I’ll do it right then, but that means I’ll have to get out of bed.”

“Mhmm,” she moaned against his mouth, taking the time to kiss his thoroughly. When she pulled away they were both panting for air. “Later. I like where you’re at right now.”

“I like it here, too.” He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, running his fingers around the slope of her jaw. “You sure you’re okay with waiting?”

“Very.” She let the sheet drop from her chest. She hitched a leg over him, coming to rest in his lap. He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. 

“But,” she paused and leaned into him, her breasts flush with his chest. “Just so you know, my answer is yes.”

“Sounds like a perfect start to me.”

_FIN_

  



End file.
